


Save Me

by Earlgreyer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sex, and getting busy, and touching, don't look at me like that, men kissing, this was a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/pseuds/Earlgreyer
Summary: Dorian's life is in upheaval.  Again.  His best friend is ill, his mentor is in jail, and he's about to make an enemy of one of the biggest mob families.  Everything is chaos.  With one major exception.  Cullen Rutherford, Special Agent with the FBI.





	1. Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [little_abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a short fic based on the prompt Help Me Disappear for Little_Abyss. Seven chapters later with a probable follow-up and I'm still thinking of things to write for this. So yeah, thanks! LOL.
> 
> \-------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angels
> 
> It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else—closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps because this person carries an angel within them—one sent to you for some higher purpose, to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them—even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering—the reason for their presence will become clear in due time.
> 
> Though here is a word of warning—you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled, the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more.
> 
> Lang Leav

The thunder claps and rumbles so loudly Dorian feels it in his chest. It’s grey outside, with dark storm clouds and a heavy rain, perfectly mirroring his mood. Tomorrow he’ll cut another tie to his past, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d love nothing more than to disassociate himself from almost everything that’s come before, but it’s not easy. He’s been working at it most of his adult life. 

Step one: Keep everyone at arm's length so they can’t hurt you. He’d actually been working on this since he’d acknowledged his attraction to men, and his parents actively hadn’t. Intimidating intellect and insufferable smugness are remarkably effective deterrents to forming close personal relationships.

Step two: Have your parents disown you. This one had taken years to implement, but eventually they came around. _Sexual deviance_ _and promiscuity_ , as they so eloquently put it, were not something they could tolerate.

Step three: Send your surrogate parent to jail. Unfortunately, Gereon Alexius had made this too easy. Dorian’s mentor, the man he’d looked up to as a shining example of how to be, turned out to be as morally bankrupt as his parents, albeit for completely opposite reasons. The culmination of this stage happens tomorrow when Dorian will take the witness stand and put Gereon behind bars for the rest of his life. He shudders to think what this is doing to Felix.

The hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his dark thoughts and he finds himself staring at a steaming mug of tea. By the scent, it’s Darjeeling, with a splash of milk. It’s his favorite. He raises his gaze until he’s looking into the warm, amber eyes of Special Agent Cullen Rutherford, of the FBI. His belly does a little flip and he wants to lose himself in their honeyed depths, but instead looks away and back to the mug of tea. “Thank you.” He reaches for the cup and their fingers touch. Dorian’s hand shakes a bit and he’s not sure if it’s from the strain of the impending trial, or because Cullen’s close enough to smell the light citrusy scent of his cologne. 

Instantly both of Cullen’s hands are around his, steady and strong. “I know the situation’s difficult, but what you’re doing is brave, and _will_ make a difference.” He looks so sincere that Dorian almost believes him. “I admire your courage.” A flush of pink colors Cullen’s cheeks but his gaze is steady. And that’s Cullen Rutherford. Steady. Solid. A boulder in the middle of a rushing river. He’s kept Dorian from panicking at least two dozen times during the last two months he’s been cooped up in this safe house, waiting for the trial to start. 

Out of nervous habit Dorian cocks a brow and smirks. “I have other attributes more worthy of your admiration, Special Agent Rutherford.” 

The blush creeps further up Cullen’s face and the vein in his neck starts pulsing in double time, and Dorian immediately regrets his words. Making Cullen uncomfortable is the last thing he wants to do. He’s the only one who really speaks with Dorian, or seems to care about him as a person instead of another nameless cog in the gears of justice. Some of their reticence falls squarely on his own shoulders though. He was anxious and upset at having to go into protective custody, and, as usual, it manifested as snark and condescension. After the first two weeks, everyone gave him a wide berth. Except Cullen, who somehow seemed to understand. 

“I’m sorry.” He quickly drops the smirk and tries to look as sincere as he feels. “That was uncalled for. Please, accept my apology.” He blows gently on the tea and takes a tentative sip. “It’s lovely. Thank you, again.” He risks another glance. Cullen nods and watches him for a moment before returning to his chair across the room. 

Thoroughly disgusted with himself, Dorian sets the tea beside him on the end table and picks up the book he was trying to read. _Modern Art and Modernism: A Critical Anthology_. He rolls his eyes and opens to the bookmark keeping his place. It’s not as if he doesn’t know most of this information already, but he needs to be on top of his game when it comes time to assume his new identity. He steals a glance at Cullen and wonders if he’d like Dorian Patel, Modern Art Dealer better than Dorian Pavus, parental disappointment and mob snitch. Cullen chooses right then to look up, and Dorian casually reaches for his tea as if that was his intent all along. He takes his time, sipping languidly, ignoring his heartbeat hammering away in his chest. 

“Did you need something? I can get it for you if you’d like.” 

_I need you_. But he would never say so aloud. He wouldn’t be able to handle Cullen’s rejection. And surely he’d be rejected. Any significant looks or smiles he may have seen from Cullen are almost certainly of his own creation. It’s Cullen’s _job_ to watch him. 

Which is not to say that _he_ hasn’t dreamed about it, because he _has_. Frequently. Vividly. Cullen’s hands gently but strongly, pulling him close, touching him intimately, lips grazing along his neck, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. Dorian shivers and barely catches a moan from slipping out. 

His eyes fly open to find Cullen watching him again, pupils dilated, lips slightly parted, and it takes every ounce of Dorian’s willpower to remain seated. They stare at each other, neither saying a word, then Cullen’s standing. Hope flares in his chest, and for a moment, Dorian thinks he'll finally cross the room, haul him to his feet, and kiss him like he’s dreamed about for the past two months. It isn’t until Cullen turns and heads to the kitchen that Dorian realizes he’s being foolish, yet again. He exhales and his whole body deflates with the effort.

Over the din of his internal self-flagellation, he hears the opening and closing of cupboards, the hollow ring of a metal pot being placed on the stove, the hum of the refrigerator as the door is opened followed by the soft pop of rubber against plastic as it’s closed. There’s a sound of a knife sliding through something crunchy and the tap tap tap as the blade hits the wooden cutting board. Dorian gets up and walks to the doorway, tea cradled against his chest protectively, curiosity, and Cullen, pulling him into the kitchen. 

Cullen’s chopping onions, looking absolutely calm and comfortable in the kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up just below the elbow, muscular forearms flexing with each downward stroke of the knife. Dorian detests cooking and never had any desire to learn, relying on his parents’ chef while growing up, and on takeout when he first moved into his own place. Once he was disowned and had to watch his money, he learned about boxed dinners and those pasty noodles that come with seasoning packets. And eggs. He can manage eggs. Sometimes without burning the toast. “You like to cook.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Cullen answers anyway. “I do. It’s relaxing. It’s comforting. Helps me clear my mind.”

Dorian wonders what Cullen needs to clear from his mind, and waits to see if there will be any more forthcoming, but it seems that’s all Cullen has to say about that. “So, what are you making?” In addition to the onions, he can see a garlic bulb, a few cans of something with the labels turned the other way, ground beef, and lots of spices. 

Cullen scoops the onion into the pan and the pieces start to sizzle, filling the room with a delicious aroma. “Spaghetti with meat sauce. We had most of the ingredients here from the last few weeks, and I figured we should use up what’s left so it doesn’t go to waste.”

Cullen’s barely looking at him and Dorian’s starting to get perturbed. “Where did you learn?” 

“My parents. Each had their special dishes and they showed us how to make them, always encouraged us to experiment and see if we could improve the recipe. And there’s a lot of down time when I’m on assignment, so I watch cooking shows.” Cullen has mentioned his brother and two sisters over the past few months. Not in any great detail, but it’s more than he knows about any of the other agents. 

They’re quiet for a few minutes and Dorian watches him brown the onions and add the ground beef, as if cooking is suddenly the most fascinating thing. But whatever Cullen does is fascinating to him. Cullen adds a pinch of this and a dash of that, never measuring anything and Dorian wonders how often he makes this particular dish. He’s about to ask when Cullen has a question of his own. “Do you cook?” Dorian snorts indelicately and Cullen finally turns, giving him his full attention. “I’ll take that as a no.” Dorian tries to hide his astonishment as the full power of a Cullen Rutherford grin is turned on him. “Do you want to try?”

He’s so dazzled that he’s halfway across the kitchen before he realizes it. “I’m afraid I haven’t the first clue how to make anything that doesn’t involve the microwave, the contents of a can, or a telephone. You’ve been warned.” Cullen laughs again and Dorian catches his breath. They’ve been together almost every evening for two months and he’s never heard Cullen laugh. Now he’s desperately trying to think of ways to make it happen again, sure it’s the best sound in the entire world. 

“All right, why don’t I show you how to chop the garlic. That’s fairly straightforward.” Dorian sets his tea on the counter and steps near Cullen, who hands him the knife, hilt first, and motions for him to step in front of the cutting board. “It’s not going to bite you, Dorian.” 

“You don’t know that. You’ve never seen me in the kitchen.” Dorian holds the knife like a weapon and stares at the clove of garlic, glaring it into submission.

“Here, let me show you.” Cullen steps behind him and places his hands over Dorian’s. “You hold the knife like this, your index finger crooked and pressed against the spine.” Cullen’s breath tickles against his cheek, their bodies are touching from shoulder to hip, and Dorian’s momentarily unable to concentrate on the words coming out of Cullen’s mouth. 

“I’m sorry. Would you mind saying that again?” He must sound as rattled as he feels because Cullen pauses and neither one moves. They hang in a kind of limbo until Dorian can’t help himself and leans back against Cullen’s chest. He thinks warm lips brush against his cheek, but it’s so light it may have been an accident. “Cullen.” Dorian’s voice is low and desperate and he wants to turn around in Cullen’s arms, wants to kiss him, be kissed by him, but before he can even consider it Cullen has taken a step back. 

Dorian turns quickly, knife still in hand, and Cullen jumps back even further. “Whoa! Watch out!” His cheeks are a deep shade of rose and he’s rubbing the back of his neck nervously, but smiling, and Dorian’s sure he’s never seen anyone look this terrified and sexy at the same time. 

He quickly puts the knife on the cutting board and takes a breath before turning around again. “Sorry.” They’re staring at each other. “Maybe it would be best if you finished. I’m a menace in the kitchen.” He smiles and retrieves his tea but leans against the counter. There are several emotions that cross Cullen’s face, but they move too fast for Dorian to catch more than a fleeting glimpse. “If it’s alright, I’d like to stay and watch. Perhaps I’ll pick up a few things.”

Cullen smiles and nods. “Watching my parents, and TV worked for me.” 

“You know, a lovely Sangiovese would pair nicely with the red sauce.” Dorian would kill for a glass of wine, but he needs to be sharp tomorrow so he sticks to tea. “You’ll have to try one the next time you make this.” 

Cullen looks over and nods. “Alright. Thanks. I know very little about wine. I’m more of an ale or stout drinker.” Dorian makes a face and Cullen laughs. “I didn’t say lager or pilsner! I’m talking about finely crafted, full bodied ales.” 

Dorian rolls his eyes dramatically. “My dear Cullen, beer is beer, and in no way, shape or form will it ever compare to a full bodied red with hints of cherry and licorice, or roasted pepper undertones.”

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever seen Cullen and he suddenly realizes that it’s just been the two of them all afternoon. There are usually two agents watching him, and Dorian’s heart begins to race, and his hands go a bit numb. His eyes dart everywhere and Cullen’s next to him in an instant. “Dorian, what’s wrong?”

“Where’s the other agent? Why aren’t there two of you?” Cullen holds him by the shoulders and gently squeezes until they’re looking into each other’s eyes, faces barely inches apart. It’s only then that he realizes Cullen’s saying his name over and over.

“Dorian.” Cullen’s voice is calm as he sets Dorian’s tea on the counter and steers them into the living room. Dorian sits on the sofa and Cullen kneels in front of him rubbing his wrists with his thumbs. “Dorian, breathe with me. In… and out. That’s it. Good.” Dorian blinks a few times and takes deep breaths, concentrating on Cullen’s steady, clear gaze and the soft stroke of his thumbs. “Dorian, it’s all right. You’re safe. Tell me what you need.” He’s not sure how long they sit there, Cullen speaking soothingly, almost babbling, and Dorian focused on breathing, and eventually the terror retreats.

“Dorian he’s watching the perimeter. We thought it would be better to have someone outside keeping an eye on things since tonight’s your last night.” They both understand the significance of that. If the Venatori family’s going to make a move, it has to be tonight, or tomorrow on the way to the courthouse. “He’s just outside. It’s okay.” Cullen’s rubbing his hands up and down his arms, and it pulls Dorian back into focus. 

“Of course. Of course. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” Dorian looks away, trying to collect himself, and feels a palm placed lightly against his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into its warmth. 

“Dorian. You have been so incredibly brave through this whole ordeal.” He tries to brush off the compliment but Cullen won’t let him, saying his name until he opens his eyes. “Dorian, I don’t know anyone else who could keep it together under the same circumstances.”

Dorian becomes agitated again. After tomorrow he’ll be completely alone, no one to hold his hand or talk him through a panic attack, or smile at him with soft amber eyes.

Frightened, he lashes out. “What circumstances?” He raises one eyebrow and sneers. “Oh, you mean the the situation where my best friend lies alone in a hospital bed, dying of a degenerative disease that has no known cure?” He knows it isn’t Cullen’s fault but his mouth keeps going. “Or perhaps you were referring to the nasty turn of events, where I’m helping to put his father in jail for illegal drug research and trials, undertaken in the hopes of saving his only son from certain death?” Dorian waves his hand in the air and makes a dismissive sound. “That’s just another day in the life of Dorian Pavus. I cut my teeth on worse. Trust me.” 

He meets Cullen’s eyes and the sympathy and true concern there finally stops his tirade. Cullen pulls him against his chest and strokes his back soothingly and Dorian melts against him. The enormity of the situation is crashing in on him and Cullen is offering comfort that he sorely needs. He has his nose pressed to his neck and he’s surrounded by his scent and his arms, and little by little his shaking stops. He wants to stay right there forever but at any moment Cullen will realize what’s happening and push him away, back up and leave him adrift. Oddly though, it doesn’t seem like Cullen’s in any hurry to move either. Dorian sniffs loudly and mumbles against his neck. “Cullen?”

“Yes?” His voice is like warm honey and Dorian can’t remember what he was going to say.

His stomach picks that moment to growl loudly. Cullen’s chuckle is infectious and Dorian harrumphs loudly, trying not to grin. “Well, you did promise me dinner, and you aren’t even remotely finished cooking yet. I might perish from hunger before the trial. It will be all your fault, you know. You’ll have to tell the judge that you failed in your duty to protect me, because you allowed me to starve to death.”

Cullen laughs and presses his lips to Dorian’s temple, but it can’t quite be called a kiss—it might only be the way Cullen turns his head. Dorian’s more confused than ever, but the whole thing is pointless anyway. After tomorrow he won’t see Cullen Rutherford again. Dorian will be off to San Francisco to become a new person with a new life and Cullen will be reassigned to some other witness in some other city. 

He tries not to whimper as Cullen gently moves back. “Hey, I haven’t lost a witness yet, and I’m certainly not going to start with you.” 

Dorian has to stop himself from moving towards him. He smooths his mustache and hair and clears his throat, silently berating himself for panicking over nothing, knowing he must look a mess. But he isn’t sorry about the results. He’ll never be sorry to be held by Cullen, even if it’s very briefly, and platonically. “I’ll let you finish cooking while I find the bottle of pain relievers for this splitting headache. It seems to have snuck up on me.” He gently rubs his temple. “Try not to miss me too much. I won’t be gone long.” 

Cullen smiles and nods before turning back to the kitchen to finish dinner. “I’m not sure how I’ll survive.”

Dorian closes the bathroom door and locates the ibuprofen, taking three before he washes his face with cool water. He sighs disgustedly and works his fingers through his hair until it’s back to its usual shape, then smooths his mustache into place. Touching up the eyeliner is next and when he feels like himself again he takes a breath and goes back into the kitchen. 

Cullen’s draining the pasta and looks up when he enters. “Just in time. We need to set the table and then we’re ready to eat.” 

Dorian pulls plates from the cupboard. “Will the other agent be joining us for dinner?” Cullen shakes his head no, and Dorian thinks he might be blushing, although it’s difficult to tell with the steam from the hot pasta billowing into his face. “Oh.” He smiles and puts the plates on the counter next to Cullen and then finishes setting the rest of the table. 

“We’ll switch duties once dinner is over. I’ll head outside and he’ll take over in here” Cullen grins. “He gets cleanup.”

Dorian’s heart sinks. “So, this is it then. Our last meal together.” _Our last hour together_. “But, you’ll be here in the morning to take me to the courthouse?”

“Technically, I’ll be off duty, but if you want me to be here, I will. I can grab a few hours of sleep and come back.”

Dorian nods and takes a breath. “Yes, that would make me feel better. I’m sure the other agents are fully capable, but it would be nice to have a friendly face with me before I go into court.”

“Then I’ll be here.” He says it so matter of factly that Dorian doesn’t doubt him for a second.

“And you won’t get in trouble with your superiors?”

Cullen shakes his head. “No. It’s a bit unusual, but not all that rare. Some witnesses just feel more comfortable with certain agents. It’ll be fine.” Cullen dishes out the pasta and sauce and they take their plates to the table. There’s silence as they begin to eat. The mood is slightly melancholy, but that might just be Dorian projecting again.

“Dinner is delicious. Thank you for making it for us.” Dorian wants to reach out and take Cullen’s hand. He wants to ask him if there’s a way they’ll ever see each other again. But he does neither. He knows the answer. After he testifies tomorrow he’ll be whisked away to the airport and flown to San Francisco where his new life is waiting for him. And everyone he ever knew will suddenly be off limits. Overall, Dorian’s quite pleased about the fresh start. Except for the part where he will leave Felix and Cullen behind. 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” Cullen blesses him with one of his elusive smiles. “I’m going to miss your company. But I’m sure you’ll have a great life, wherever you’re going.”

“You don’t know?” That surprises Dorian, although he isn’t sure why.

“No. That’s purely need-to-know, and I’m not involved in that part of your case.” 

“Oh.” He supposes it all makes sense for the safety of the witness. “Well, I’ve seen pictures. It seems lovely. I’m sure I’ll take to my new life like a fish to water.”

“I’m sure you will.” Cullen sounds positive, which makes Dorian feel a bit better and disappointed at the same time. 

Dinner ends faster than he anticipates and suddenly Cullen’s pulling on his jacket. Dorian walks with him and they stop just inside the door. “It’s been a pleasure to guard you.” Cullen looks as though there’s more he wants to say, but can’t, or won’t. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll be here in the morning when you’re ready to go.” Dorian wants to ask him what he’s thinking, wants to hold his hand, curl up next to him. “Good night, Dorian.” 

Cullen slips out the door and Dorian is left staring at the space where he was, feeling empty and alone. He can’t face the thought of dealing with anyone else tonight so he turns and goes to his room, softly closing the door behind him. He pulls a thin volume of poetry from the stack on his dresser and curls up in the chair in the corner, letting the book fall open where it will, and sighs at the words, so fitting for tonight. He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep, and if Cullen has to stay up, then he will too. He’ll keep him company, if only in spirit.


	2. Promise Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.  
> ~ A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh
> 
> \---

“Yes, and Fauvism, in contrast, is known for vivid colors and wild brushstrokes, but similar in its abstract subject matter.” Dorian smiles politely at the couple viewing the painting. They’ll probably buy, he just needs to leave them alone to talk it through. “I’ll give you some time to admire _Madame Matisse_.” He quietly backs away and smiles broadly at the client entering the gallery. “Madame de Fer.” Dorian’s genuinely pleased at her arrival and practically glides across the room to her. “So wonderful to see you this afternoon. Has the Degas arrived?”

She grips his chin and turns his head to look more closely at the diamond stud in his right nostril. “Dorian, darling, I _love_ the new piercing. _Tres chic_.” She pats his cheek. “It suits you.” She accepts a flute of champagne from a gallery attendant and takes a sip. “The Degas was uncrated yesterday. The interior designer is working with her team to hang it properly in the greatroom. I left Bastion at home to supervise.”

“So what brings you to my humble shop today? Anther Degas, perhaps? A Warhol?” Vivienne de Fer is the gallery’s largest patron and Dorian willingly drops everything to accommodate her visits. 

“I’m thinking that wonderful _Delaunay_ you showed me the other day. _Prismes électriques_ I believe.” 

Dorian loops her arm through his and they stroll across the gallery. He know she remembers the painting and its name, and she knows Dorian knows. It’s a little game they play, an homage to their first meeting when she put him through his paces, making sure he was worthy of the gallery that was like a second home to her. Thankfully, he wasn’t found wanting, and they instantly bonded. 

He stops their progress near his assistant. “Cole, would you see if the Calders need any further help with the Matisse? They seem ready to buy.” Cole nods and heads towards the couple as Dorian leads Vivienne through the center of the gallery, stopping a few feet away from the Delaunay for full viewing impact. “The colors are exquisite. I love the energy and the sense of infinite space. Which room were you envisioning for this one?”

Vivienne’s phone pings and she slips it out of her purse, looks at it briefly and tsks dramatically, then puts it away again. “Such a shame.” She waves her hand as if to clear the air. “The entry I think.”

Dorian gives her his full attention, as she obviously wants. “I beg your pardon?”

“The entry. Perhaps at the top of the stairs.”

“A shame?” Dorian plays his role perfectly. As much as she would never admit it, Vivienne loves gossip, as long as she isn’t the target. She obviously wants to reveal some juicy tidbit.

“The news, my dear. That poor Alexius boy. Such a shame.”

Dorian’s blood freezes. He hasn’t had any contact with Felix since he went into protective custody, although he’s followed what he could through mainstream media. “Shame?”

“Darling, _certainly_ you heard about the case, even in New York. The son is terminally ill, the mother died a few years ago, the father is serving a life term for crimes against humanity or something like that.”

Dorian nods. “Yes. I think I heard something about that.” 

Vivienne squeezes his arm. “Well, here it’s still a _cause célèbre_. It seems the son was rushed to the hospital yesterday.” She shakes her head and looks at him knowingly. “They aren’t saying anything about his condition, which usually means something terrible.” She tsks again and sighs. “How horrible would it be? To know you will die alone like that. No family with you. His mother passed several years ago from the same degenerative condition. It breaks my heart.”

Dorian takes a deep breath so he won’t throw up. “That _is_ a shame. Where have they taken him?” He tries for casual curiosity but his voice sounds strained and Vivienne glances at him. 

“I know. It’s all terribly upsetting. Somewhere in Seattle. That’s where the family is from. They’re well-off, so he’ll have the best care money can buy, for as long as he’s still with us.” 

Dorian can’t breathe. All he can hear is the blood whooshing in his ears and he feels like something’s stuck in his throat. He sees Vivienne’s lips moving but can’t make out what she says. “I”m sorry, what?”

“You look rather pale, darling. Perhaps you should sit down.” She pats his arm and appears to be genuinely concerned, and he’s somewhat comforted by that. “Why don’t I come back tomorrow and we can discuss the painting then?”

Dorian manages to smile and inclines his head in thanks before making his way to his office. There are a million ideas flooding his mind, none of which are smart or sane. He throws himself into his chair and taps his keyboard, cursing the few seconds it takes for his laptop to flare to life. His fingers fly over the keys, searching for the phone number before he pulls out his cell, dials Washington Medical Center, and waits forever for someone to pick up.

“Washington Medical Center. How may I direct your call?” The perky voice on the other end of the line makes Dorian unreasonably angry. 

It’s a struggle, but Dorian manages to keep his voice professional and calm. “I’m trying to reach a patient. Felix Alexius. I don’t know which room he’s in.” 

There’s a pause and the clacking of fingers on a keyboard, then the cheery voice is back. “I’m sorry Sir, that room isn’t taking calls. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No. Thank you.” Dorian hangs up and stares at his phone, trying to decide just how reckless is too reckless. “In for a penny…” He dials Felix’s cell. Even after a year he knows the number by heart. It rings several times, and he’s sure it’s going to go to voicemail, when suddenly there’s a subdued voice on the other end. 

“Hello?”

Dorian wants to cry at how exhausted he sounds. “Felix?”

“Dorian? Oh my god! Dorian, is that you? You shouldn’t be calling me!”

“I had to. I heard you were admitted.” He fights to keep his emotions under control and not cry into the phone.

There’s a brief pause and a heavy sigh. “Yeah. It doesn’t look good, Dor.” Felix sounds tired and resigned and it makes Dorian sick to his stomach. They knew this would happen. Just before Dorian went into witness protection, Felix’s response to his medications had diminished, and there weren’t any others left to try. It’s what happened to his mother. Felix has been living on borrowed time.

“How long?” Dorian’s grateful he doesn’t need to clarify the question. Felix knows what he’s asking.

“A few weeks. A month at most.”

Dorian stuffs his fist into his mouth to stifle the sob. They’re silent for a few moments and Dorian uses the time to get himself under control and make a decision.

In his usual way, Felix reads his mind. “Don’t do it, Dor. It’s not worth the risk to your life. It won’t change anything.”

Dorian sniffs loudly and shuts off his laptop. “Last I heard you were stuck in a hospital bed and unable to stop me from making foolish choices.” He wipes his face and clears his throat, more in control now that he has a plan. “I love you, Felix. You’re family, and always worth the risk.”

“Dor…” 

He hangs up before Felix can convince him he’s being stupid, and heads towards the door at the back of his office, which leads to his loft over the gallery. He takes the stairs two at a time and barrels through the front door, striding towards the bedroom area. He calculates the drive in his head while he yanks a leather duffle out of the closet and begins stuffing clothes and shoes into it. The thirteen hour drive will put him there early tomorrow morning and he’ll stay as long as he can. 

He changes into dark jeans and a black pullover sweater and pushes up the sleeves as he shoves his feet into his Docs and laces them haphazardly. The bathroom is the last stop. He grabs his toiletries kit from under the sink and tosses it into the duffle. Whatever is in there will have to suffice. If he’s missing something he’ll buy it later. He zips the duffle closed, takes the elevator to the garage, and is in his car and on the Five before he remembers to let Cole know he’ll be gone for a few days. He dials and waits for him to pick up.

“Hello, Dorian.” He sounds so other-worldly on the phone.

“Cole, I’ll be out of town for a few days. I need you to manage the gallery while I’m gone. Alright?”

There’s a pause on the other end, as if Cole is processing what Dorian is saying.

“He’s glad you're coming. He’s frightened.”

“I am too.” That’s the part of knowing Cole that’s the most disturbing. He's the first legitimate Medium Dorian’s ever met. More like an empath, really. Probably the only one in existence. That Cole has never tried to make a living at it only lends him more credibility in Dorian’s estimation. 

“He doesn’t blame you.”

No matter how many times Cole has told him that, Dorian can’t seem to believe it. “Thank you, Cole. I’ll call you in a few days.” Dorian hangs up and grips the wheel tighter, willing himself to Seattle.

**\--**

It’s six in the morning when Dorian finally pulls into the parking garage at the hospital. He’s had five cups of coffee along the way, and no sleep, but he’s not feeling it yet. He’s not allowing himself to feel anything. He stares at the building and takes a breath, preparing for the next step. No one should recognize him. His hair is longer, past his shoulders now, and he shaved off his mustache when he assumed his new identity. There isn’t anything he can do about the tattoos but pull down his sleeves and hope it’s all enough. He texted Felix briefly when he stopped last to get coffee and use the toilet, so he knows which elevators to take and which room he’s in. The truly tricky part is going to be getting past the guard at Felix’s door, but he has a plan for that, and hopefully luck as well.

He strides confidently across the parking lot like he’s any other visitor, and doesn’t stop to look around when he enters the main doors. He heads right, then takes a quick left down the first hall, like he’s done this a million times and knows exactly where he’s going. The less frequently used elevators are on this end of the building, and he isn’t likely to be stopped. He glances in each office as he passes. It’s ridiculously easy to snatch a white lab coat from a desk chair, and he balls it up under his arm, then heads to the elevators. 

The wait is interminable and he panics each time someone walks down the hall, although he doesn’t show it. When the elevator chimes and the doors finally open he steps forward, but immediately has to back up to allow a patient to be wheeled out. He keeps his head down and doesn’t make eye contact. Once they’ve gone, he rushes inside and jabs his finger against the second floor button, smashing it repeatedly as if that will make the doors close faster.

By the time the pathetically slow elevator makes it to the second floor, and the doors reopen, he’s cursed in several languages and slipped into the lab coat. He smooths his hair, somehow managing to calm his racing heart, and exits the elevator at a normal pace. Felix’s room is to the left at the end of the hall. Dorian scopes out the surroundings as he strides forward, and tries to avoid eye contact with the few nurses he sees. There’s a stairwell at the very end of the hall, and the security guard’s next to it, just outside Felix’s door. He looks tired and not completely alert. Dorian walks into Felix’s room as if he’s supposed to be there, and closes the door softly behind him, then turns. 

Felix is asleep. He looks frail, and infinitely older than his thirty years. The disease has ravaged his body, leaving him excessively thin, with sores covering his skin like a perverted version of freckles. The circles under his eyes are almost black, his cheeks are hollow, and his once handsome face is almost unrecognizable. His breathing is labored, and Dorian can hear the rattle of each breath Felix takes, even over the heart rate monitor beeping rapidly. 

He silently crosses the room and sits in the chair beside the bed, wanting to hold Felix’s hand but afraid it will wake him. So he waits and tries not to rehash the unfairness of Felix’s illness. He’s lost in thought and jumps when Felix croaks out his name. 

Dorian reaches out and takes his hand. It’s ice cold, and trembling, and Dorian wants to say something witty, but he’s suddenly overcome by guilt, and the only thing he can think of is that it’s his fault Felix is dying alone. “I’m sorry, Felix. For everything. For what I’ve done to you, leaving you alone to deal with your illness, taking your father away…”

“Shhhh. Dor, it’s alright. You didn’t take him away.” There’s a slight pressure from Felix’s hand. “He was gone long before he went to jail.” His voice is labored, like he’s forcing sound out of his body at great expenditure of energy. Dorian wants to cry but manages to hold it together. “His obsession with finding a cure took him away from us. Then after mother died, he became desperate, stopped caring about how he found the answer, or who he hurt in pursuit of it.” Felix takes a deep shuddering breath and coughs violently in response. Dorian flies out of the chair, ready to press the call button, but he stops him with a slight wave of his hand. “I’m alright. I do that now and then.” He gestures toward the table near the window. “Water?” 

Dorian turns and pours him a cupful, holding the straw steady for him as he takes a feeble sip. Water dribbles from the corners of his mouth and Dorian uses the sleeve of the lab coat to wipe his chin, etiquette be damned. Felix settles back against the pillow and smiles. “You did what was right, Dorian.” Felix takes another labored breath. “I know turning my father in and testifying against him wasn’t easy for you.” What little energy Felix had is starting to flag. “But you stopped him from hurting any more people. At great expense to yourself.” 

“The worst part is not seeing you. Not being able to be here for you, like I should. I’m safe, and living a wonderful life, and you’re here…” He shakes his head, unable to continue.

“It’s so good to see you, Dor. Although you look odd without the mustache.” Felix’s smile is weak but genuine, and Dorian barks out a laugh through his tears. “But other than that, you look good. I like the longer hair and the ear and nose piercings. They make you look rakish.” Some of the old sparkle shines in his eyes. “I’ll bet you have tons of gorgeous men falling at your feet.”

Dorian shakes his head. “I’ve been too afraid to get involved with anyone. I’m living a lie, how could I start something based on a lie?”

“It’s not a lie. It’s your new reality, Dorian.” Felix takes another moment to breathe. “Live your life, fall in love, maybe even get married. Adopt a kid, for god’s sake. You’d make an amazing father.” 

Dorian looks at him, and for a brief moment he sees Felix as he used to be -- a bright, vibrant young man with a glorious future. Dorian shakes his head and croaks out, “I couldn’t. They would never know Uncle Felix. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Felix’s grip is suddenly painful and his eyes are intense. “Dorian, _promise_ me. Promise that when you leave this hospital you will have a full life. Find someone to love, and love them intensely and passionately, with everything that you are. Find a man who loves you just as much, and as well. Laugh with him. Have a family. Live the beautiful life you deserve. Live the life I can’t have. Live forboth of us, Dor.” 

A body wracking coughing fit grips him and Dorian reaches for the call button just as there’s a commotion in the hall. The guard’s shouting and nurses are yelling and suddenly there’s a gun shot. Felix grips his arm painfully. “ _Promise_ me, Dorian.” 

Dorian nods. “I promise, Felix. I do.” 

He looks at the door and then back to Felix who has slumped back against the pillows. “Go. Run. Don’t let them get you, Dor.” 

“Felix!”

“ _Go_! You can’t do anything for me. You have to live.” Felix is shaking and Dorian can only nod and turns to leave. 

He’s halfway across the room when the door bursts open and a man with a gun is aiming at him. It’s like everything happens in slow motion. It’s crystal clear. He can see the man’s finger on the trigger and knows his time is done. He’s surprised he’s not more upset. It’s not how he wanted things to happen, but he knew it was a possibility. He has no one to blame but himself. He wonders if he has time to dive out of the way just as the guard flies through the door, shoulder bleeding, left arm dangling uselessly at his side, and tackles the gunman from behind. 

Time speeds up and Dorian doesn’t stop to see how things turn out. He doesn’t even spare a backward glance to Felix. He’s through the doorway and shoving open the heavy emergency door to the stairwell, bouncing off of walls as he careens around the corners. He makes it to the bottom and forces the exit door open, triggering the alarm, but he isn’t worried about it. The stairwell empties into the parking lot near the emergency entrance, and he sprints across driveway, leaps over the small fence at the edge of the parking lot, then dodges between the cars, pushing the automatic starter and the door unlock buttons on his keyfob until he gets to his vehicle. He flings himself behind the wheel and his tires screech as he throws the car into reverse and hits the gas. He swings the car wide then slams the transmission into drive and peels out of the parking lot. 

He’s not sure where he’s going. He hasn’t thought past getting away from the hospital and now the panic is setting in. He has no idea how to deal with this kind of situation and knows no one in Seattle he can trust to help him. And then he realizes that isn’t true. There’s a number programmed into his phone for emergencies. He never thought he’d need it. He presses the call button on the steering wheel and waits for the beep. “Call my agent.”

“Calling… _my agent_. Say _yes_ to proceed, otherwise say _back_ or _cancel_.” 

If he could throttle the bodiless voice of his car he would. “Yes!”

“Dialing.” The sound of the number being dialed grates on his nerves, but the phone picks up almost after the first ring.

“Dorian?” Cullen’s voice has never sounded so good and Dorian wants to cry. Again.

He takes a moment to wonder how Cullen knows it was him, but he doesn’t have time to focus on that right now. “Cullen, I need help.” He’s amazed at how even his voice sounds.

“Are you hurt? What’s happening?”

Now that he has to say it out loud, Dorian realizes how stupid he was. “I’m not hurt. I went to see Felix in the hospital. The Venatori found me.”

“What?! How?” The concern in Cullen’s voice counters some of the anger that he hears as well.

“I don’t know! They probably have Felix’s phone bugged or something. Isn’t it _your_ job to know these things?” His fear is getting the better of him and he’s panicking. 

“Well, it was your job to stay safe and away from Seattle, but I guess that’s irrelevant now.” Cullen sounds furious and Dorian never expected the sarcasm. 

“Cullen! Help! Please? You can yell at me later! I promise to sit quietly and let you berate me all you’d like!”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Where are you?”

“I’m still near the University, headed North on the Five. I panicked and just got back on the highway in whatever direction was most convenient.”

“It’s alright. Calm down and focus on driving. We don’t need to deal with a traffic accident too.” 

There’s an extended silence on the other end and Dorian starts to worry they’ve been disconnected. “Cullen?”

“I’m here, Dorian. Okay, keep going north on I-5 for about an hour. Get off in Burlington and meet me in the parking lot of the Navy Recruiting Center on route 20. If it seems like someone’s following you, go inside and tell the recruiter what’s going on. I’m heading to my car now. I’ll meet you in Burlington in about two hours.”

“Thanks, Cullen.”

“Don’t thank me yet. And when I see you, you have a lot of explaining to do.”


	3. Deep Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To many wonder, wounded, not wanted  
> That's where I was before you  
> And I was there reaching, for what you were seeking  
> And now we've got too much to lose
> 
> So don't let me go  
> Let's walk the unknown  
> Won't you baby, keep your hand in mine
> 
> Take me, save me  
> This lost rolling stone  
> Don't wanna swim these deep waters alone
> 
>  
> 
> Deep Water  
> Written by Alisan Porter

Dorian has been waiting over an hour. He knows because he’s watched the minutes tick by. Even if Cullen’s clock is a few minutes slow, he’s well past when he said he’d be there. Dorian has picked up his phone to call at least three times but each time he sets it back down. If Cullen is angry, calling might make it worse. He nervously scans the parking lot again, and doesn’t see any suspicious vehicles, but he doesn’t see Cullen either. Not that he knows what kind of car Cullen drives. He distracts himself by trying to predict what kind it will be. It’s quite a surprise when a dark green Land Rover pulls up next to him, and Cullen jumps out. 

Dorian almost cries with relief. He opens the car door and steps out just before Cullen yanks him forward and crushes him to his chest. “Jesus, Dorian, you had me worried.”

Dorian closes his eyes and melts against him, feeling safe for the first time since San Francisco. He wraps his arms around Cullen’s waist, presses his nose into the crook of his neck and breathes. They stand there for a few moments of blissful relief and then Cullen is shaking him and yelling. 

“Seriously, Dorian! Do you have a death wish? Wasn’t this all explained in your orientation? You can’t go back to your old life! Not if you want to survive!” Cullen’s face is beet red and he lets go of Dorian to start pacing. “Your testimony did put Alexius behind bars, and he’s been cooperative with authorities, so there are fewer Venatori on the streets, but it’s still not safe for you in Seattle.” He stops and looks at Dorian. “It may not even be safe for you to go back to wherever you live now.”

Dorian stands there and doesn’t interrupt. Nothing he said is untrue. When Cullen winds down Dorian has also started to calm down. “Cullen, Felix is dying. He only has a few weeks left.” He reaches for him and grasps his forearm, squeezing gently. “I had to see him. He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together.” He’s tearing up again, now that the adrenaline is receding, and he curses himself for not holding it together in front of Cullen. “I couldn’t let him think he was completely alone.”

Cullen sighs and squeezes Dorian’s hand. “It’s done. Now we just deal with the fallout.” He looks around and Dorian can see the thoughts spinning in his head. “Okay. We can’t leave your car here, it will be ticketed and towed. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me your cell phone, you’re going to get back in your car and you’ll follow me to a safe house. It’s about two and a half hours from here, but your car will only be able to handle the first hour and a half. We’ll leave it at a Park-and-Hike location so no one will think it’s abandoned, and we’ll take my car the rest of the way. Alright?”

Dorian isn’t thrilled about being without his cell phone or leaving his car in a public area, but he doesn’t have any choice. He hands over his phone and his mouth drops open as Cullen snaps it in half. He’s a little turned on by the display of strength, but appalled at the demise of his phone, and feels exposed without access to it. “Do you know how much that cost?”

“Should’a thought of that before you called Felix on it. Now they can’t track you.” 

That made Dorian blanch. “You mean they might be able to find me here?”

“Maybe. Which is why we need to get on the road.” Cullen looks into his eyes as though he’s making sure Dorian isn’t in shock. “You gonna be okay?” 

“Yes.” He should have known that, but it wouldn’t have changed much. He won’t let Cullen see his discomfort, though. He sniffs and stands taller. “I’m fine. Lead on.” He spins on his heels and slides back into his car, determined not to show any further weakness. 

It’s about a forty minute drive to Concrete, Washington and then another hour on Baker Lake Road to the edge of the National Forest. The further they drive, the fewer signs of civilization can be found, until the only thing Dorian sees are trees and more trees. 

Cullen pulls off into a gravel area where there are a half dozen other vehicles, and Dorian parks then gets out of the car with a groan. “I don’t think I ever want to sit down again. My ass is sore, and not in a good way. My eyes feel like the Sahara, complete with sand.” He spins around and throws his hands in the air. “My entire body is sore! How can riding in the car be so difficult?” That’s when he notices that Cullen has exited his own vehicle and is leaning against the door, trying not to laugh. Dorian points at him. “I’m sure you wouldn’t find the situation so amusing if the only thing you had to listen to was a radio station specializing in a musical style that rhymes with crap, or twenty seven stations of static! But I’m certain you had your phone, and access to the music you prefer.”

“Dorian, I’m driving a 1997 Land Rover. It doesn’t have bluetooth capability. I listened to the same shit stations you did. All two of them.” Cullen holds his hand out and motions for Dorian to give him his duffel. “I’ll put that in the back. You can stretch your legs for a minute or two, but we really should get moving so we can get settled before it gets dark.”

Dorian hands Cullen his bag and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Dark? It’s only noon.” His stomach grumbles but he doesn’t want to mention how hungry he is. He’s already made a spectacle of himself.

Cullen grins. “We have another hour in the car, then we have to unload everything and put it away, gather firewood, probably dust off a few things, put linens on the beds, and at some point make dinner.” He opens the back of the Rover and Dorian sees boxes and grocery bags and several coolers. Cullen wedges the duffel in a free space and opens one of the grocery bags. “Here, eat this.” He hands Dorian a sandwich and then a bottle of water.

Dorian looks skeptical. “What kind is it?” He sounds like he’s four and Cullen laughs, taking a bite of his own.

“Peanut butter and jelly. And I have some bananas as well.”

Dorian shrugs and opens the baggie holding the sandwich. “What kind of jelly?” 

“Raspberry.”

“Oh.” It’s said quietly, as all of the snark leaves him. Raspberry is his favorite, and Cullen remembered. He glances at him, and as if it’s the first time, sees his sweet smile, blond curls slightly messy from riding with the window open, and amber eyes sparkling brightly with amusement. 

He winks at Dorian and jerks his head towards the Land Rover. “C’mon. You can eat in my car.”

Dorian blinks a few times and tries to process this new Cullen Rutherford. He’s confident and solid, just as he remembers him, but he’s also relaxed and almost playful, and it makes him even more attractive, if that were possible. Dorian takes a bite of the sandwich and walks towards the passenger side, then climbs in. “I know how to do some of those things you mentioned, so you don’t have to do them all yourself. I can’t cook, as you know, and I don’t know the first thing about firewood, except don’t collect the green stuff, but I can dust, and make beds, and help unload the car.”

Cullen puts his hand on his chest and opens his mouth wide, eyebrows in his hairline. “You know how to dust?”

Dorian harrumphs and tries not to smile. “Yes, I know how to dust!” Cullen puts the car into drive and pulls out of the lot, heading along a one-lane dirt road that meanders off into the forest. “I could have afforded a cleaning person in San Francisco, but given the circumstances, and a one bedroom loft, it seemed a bit excessive and indulgent.” He sighs and slumps against the seat. “I also didn’t feel safe giving a stranger access to my apartment.”

Cullen glances over and Dorian’s suddenly thinking about being pressed against his chest and held in his arms. It’s as though no time has passed and he’s just as confused about Cullen as he was a year ago. “You okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you.” 

Cullen looks genuinely upset and Dorian nods and sits up taller. “Yes. I’m fine. I was just thinking about all of the clothing I left behind. There are some pieces that I really love.” He looks at his feet and shrugs. “At least I still have these. They’re my favorite boots.”

Cullen glances over and nods. “I love Docs too. Mostly for work. I wear my Tims in the woods though.” He glances back at Dorian’s face. “You know, we might be able to salvage some of the things from your apartment. I’ll call the bureau from the house, see if we can figure out what the next move is. Normally witness protection is one-and-done. If you give up the anonymity, it’s on you.” Dorian blanches but nods, ready to pay, whatever the price. It was worth it to see Felix again. He startles when Cullen reaches over and pats his thigh. It’s unexpected and sends tingles through his body. “It might be okay though. I have some friends in the Bureau. They may not be able to set you up quite so nicely, but they should be able to get you a new identity.”

Dorian glances at Cullen, but he doesn’t seem to be fazed by the contact, or aware that might have any significance. “Well, if you want to, you can contact my assistant at the gallery. He’s sort of a friend. He would pack a few of the more important things for me, and hold onto them until he can send them along. If that’s allowed.”

Cullen nods and gives him a small smile. “We’ll see how it goes. Okay? But no promises.”

Dorian nods. “No promises.” He leans his forehead against the side window and watches the forest pass by. It’s beautiful, but there really isn’t much variety, and wonders at the location for a safe house. But maybe the very sensitive cases are brought here. Or maybe it’s the closest one that wasn’t being utilized, although that seems unlikely. “Cullen?” Dorian is getting sleepy as the car gently jostles him back and forth. 

“Mmm?”

He looks over and then shuffles his position so his temple is leaning against the headrest and his leg is tucked up under his body. He stares at Cullen’s profile, so strong and handsome, memorizing his features for that moment when they have to say goodbye again, this time permanently. “How did you know it was me?”

“What?” Cullen glances over at him and smiles, and Dorian’s breath catches. 

“When I called.” He suddenly can’t seem to get his voice above a murmur. “You knew it was me. You answered the phone saying my name. How did you know?” The sweetest pink blush creeps up Cullen’s neck and cheeks. Dorian wants to laugh and crawl into his lap and kiss away his adorable embarrassment. Instead he watches as Cullen seems to work through an appropriate answer. “You don’t need to tell me. It’s alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I programmed your new number into my phone.”

Dorian sits up. “I beg your pardon?” 

“When the bureau gave you a new number, I found out what it was and put it in my phone. In case you needed me.” Cullen was intently concentrating on the road and most definitely not looking at him.

Dorian deflates, slumping back against the leather seat. “Oh. I suppose it’s something you do for all the people you protect.”

“No.”

It was not the response he was expecting. “No?”

“No.” Cullen glances quickly in his direction and then snaps his eyes back to the road. “It’s actually against protocol. I could have been fired for doing it.”

Dorian’s utterly confused. “Fired?” None of it make sense. “Then why did you do it?”

Cullen sighs exasperatedly. “In case you needed me, Dorian! Which you ultimately did, so I’m glad I risked it!”

“Oh.” He bristles as realization dawns. Cullen had no confidence that he could make it on his own. “Yes well, I was doing fine until Felix got worse.” He turns in his seat and faces out the front window, posture perfect, feet flat on the floor. “And I’m not sorry that I went to see him. No one should die alone.” He’s mortified. Cullen had so little faith in his ability to take care of himself, that the moment he was assigned a new phone number Cullen programmed it into his own phone, certain that, at some point, Dorian would need him and call. And he was right. Dorian takes some pride in the fact that it took over a year for it to happen.

“Dorian.”

“I’m not sorry. And I’d do it again, given the same situation.” He sounds bitter and angry, which is fitting, given that he is. He wants to be out of the car, as far away from Cullen as he can get, but they keep driving. 

They ride for another half an hour in silence before Cullen pulls off the one lane road and meanders down what looks like a driveway of sorts. Dorian wonders if the trip will ever end when they suddenly burst through the trees and his jaw drops open. In front of them is a tidy two story log cabin, with a big wrap around porch, two large chimneys, dormer windows on each long side of the house, and a small grassy area abutting a big lake. It’s rustic, and cozy and definitely nothing like what Dorian had been imagining. “Oh, it’s lovely.”

Cullen snorts. “Not what you were expecting?”

Dorian shakes his head and opens the car door. “To be honest, no. I thought we’d end up in some one room hunting cabin with no running water or electricity.”

“Um…” Dorian whips around to look accusingly at Cullen, who defensively holds up his hands. “There’s running water!” Dorian huffs out a breath and relaxes slightly, though the vision of needing to use an outhouse still burns his brain. That would not have been a pleasant discussion.

“But no electricity?” His phone would have eventually been useless anyway.

“No. Dad wanted us to come out here and talk to each other, spend time playing board games and reading and fishing and getting away from the city. It’s his escape.” Cullen blushed and rubbed his neck. “Sorry, I probably should have warned you before we got here.”

Dorian sniffs audibly and turns towards the house. “This is your family’s house? Cabin? When was the last time anyone was here?”

“Yeah, and no idea. Not too long ago, though. Dad or Branson stops in every few weeks to check on the place. But before we unpack the car we should probably take a look inside and see if everything is in order.” Cullen heads towards the porch and Dorian follows, still annoyed but not wanting to be left outside by himself. The huge front door looks heavy and Dorian’s shocked when Cullen unlocks it and it silently swings inward with little effort. Cullen glances at him as if he’s expecting a reaction, and smiles when he sees it. “Dad and I worked on this for a month, getting the balance just right.”

Dorian grudgingly acknowledges the accomplishment. “Impressive.” They enter into the living room. Things are a bit dusty but not as bad as he’d been expecting. The place has a slight musty smell but it’s already clearing out with the breeze from the open door. His eye is immediately drawn to the natural granite fireplace in the center of the opposite wall. It’s huge, taking up half of the length of the room and looks expertly crafted, but not prefabricated. “I suppose your father built that as well?”

Cullen nods and grins. “We built the whole place, actually. It was something dad wanted to try. He’d built barns, and sheds, and garages for the farm, but never a house, and definitely never a log cabin. I think that may have more to do with why there isn’t electricity than he likes to let on.”

“The farm?” Everything about Cullen Rutherford’s boyish charm and do-good attitude suddenly clicks into place. “Up at the crack of dawn, cow milking, egg gathering, chicken feeding, kind of farm?”

Cullen nods like it’s no big deal. “But I’d always wanted to be a policeman, or in the military, or something where I could help people. So when I got older I went to college and got my undergrad, and then worked for the Seattle Police Department for several years. I almost took the Detective’s test, but there were a rash of scandals in different departments, and I wasn’t sure I could be effective there anymore. We were losing the trust of the people we were supposed to be serving. So I decided to apply to the FBI. It took another year but I eventually got in. My brother Branson mostly runs the farm now. Dad still putters around but his days of heavy lifting are behind him. I guess I always figured someday I’d go back and help.”

Cullen looks a bit guilty and it perplexes Dorian. “When the world doesn’t need saving anymore?” 

“Something like that. Yeah.” Cullen rubs his neck and starts to look around the living room, so Dorian does too. There’s an overstuffed russet colored sofa on one side of the fireplace, and a coordinating russet and cream plaid patterned club chair on the other. The coffee table is an old flat topped trunk and it all sits atop a handmade braided rug. It’s too country for his taste, but it’s homey and Dorian’s surprised at how comfortable it feels. 

Everything must be in order, because Cullen heads towards the next room, Dorian following behind. He takes the opportunity to imagine Cullen on the farm, golden curls shimmering in the afternoon sun, arms flexing as he single handedly tosses a bale of hay somewhere bales of hay go, a stalk of wheat clenched in his teeth. It almost makes the fact that they’ve wandered into the kitchen palatable. He doesn’t envision himself spending much time in this room, especially when he spies the two wood burning stoves against the far wall. There are kettles and pans placed around the flat surfaces and lots of metal doors on the front, which he assumes open to compartments for wood and cooking. They look incredibly intimidating, and he silently vows to have nothing to do with them. He keeps turning, trying to take in the whole pioneer theme while not having a panic attack. There’s a cast iron sink and several butcher block counter tops, and in the center of the room is a hand-hewn pine table with six bow back Windsor chairs. Cullen sees where he’s looking and smiles. “My dad and Branson made the chairs. I helped with the table.”

“Of course you did.” Dorian’s glad Cullen doesn’t seem to pick up on the snark. Or if he does, he’s ignoring it. Their skill really is remarkable, imposing even, and only makes Dorian feel more inadequate. Cullen and his family can build useful things from materials found in their surroundings. Dorian can dither on about the attributes of any given wine and compare the schools of art, but that kind of skill is only useful to impress rich friends at cocktail parties. He’s feeling utterly incompetent and needs to do something to distract himself before he slides into a morass of self pity and loathing. “Should we unload the car? Or do you want to check upstairs first?”

Cullen turns and pins him with a look that he remembers well. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Obviously he isn’t fooling Cullen at all. “What time is it?” It’s said half jokingly, but Cullen isn’t laughing.

“One.” Cullen cocks his head to the side and waits, looking more closely at Dorian’s face, almost daring him to lie.

“Twenty nine hours.”

Cullen doesn’t seem surprised. “Mhmmm. Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to unload the car quickly, because between the two of us it won’t take long. At that point you can make the bed in the main room. That one will be yours. I’ll deal with the other bed and put away the food while you get some sleep before you have a complete meltdown on me. I’ll wake you for dinner.” 

His tone leaves no room for argument and Dorian bristles. “I’m not a child, Cullen. I am a perfectly capable adult.”

“I know what you’re like when you don’t get enough sleep.” Dorian wants to fire back with a snarky remark, but unfortunately, Cullen knows from experience. 

At the beginning of his protective custody before the trial Dorian had suffered regularly from terrible nightmares. They were emotionally vivid but horrifyingly vague in content. He would dream that he couldn’t move or yell, as though he were bound and gagged. He’d try to warn people that something terrible was happening but he couldn’t move his lips, and then he’d start to panic. He’d wake up sobbing and sweaty and his heart would be pounding out of his chest. 

His solution was to stay awake until he passed out, too exhausted to dream. After one particularly bad night he’d stayed up thirty six hours straight and ended up throwing a temper tantrum to put any three-year-old to shame. Over Rice Krispies. Cullen had to physically restrain him and walk-carry him into his room where he practically force fed him a banana and threatened to sit on him so he would lay down. There had been a bit of a row about it and Dorian finally admitted why he wasn’t sleeping. Cullen volunteered to stay and wake him at the first sign that he was having a nightmare, and Dorian finally agreed to lay down. He was shocked when he’d opened his eyes to find it was light outside and he’d slept straight through the night. He was even more surprised that Cullen had been true to his word and was reading a book in the chair next to the bed. That was the exact moment when Dorian’s feelings for Cullen moved past infatuation.

Dorian sags a bit and takes a breath. There isn’t any point in arguing. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

They head back into the living room and out the front door, following the wraparound porch to the parking area. Cullen unlocks and lifts the tailgate, catching a few of the bags that had shifted during the ride and hands them to Dorian. “Non-perishables. These go in the kitchen on the counter.” Dorian grabs a few more just to prove he’s not useless and heads into the house. He deposits everything on the counter and turns around, almost running into Cullen and a large hard side cooler. “Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t know you were so close behind me.” 

Cullen sets the cooler on the floor against an empty part of the wall and smiles reassuringly. “It’s fine. Nothing got dropped and no one’s hurt.” He heads back out to the car and Dorian hurries to keep up. On the next trip inside he insists on taking all the remaining grocery bags at once. “Dorian, we don’t need to rush. You can take two trips.”

“It’s fine. I have them.” He turns and heads into the house, glad his vanity forced him to join a gym in San Francisco, and even more glad that he actually showed up frequently enough that all of the bags aren’t too much of a strain. He half sets, half drops the load on the floor in front of the sink, and steps out of the way to let Cullen come through with another cooler. 

On the third trip Cullen hands him a large box with bedding and towels. “Master bedroom’s up the stairs and straight down the hall. The linen closet’s in the bathroom.” 

Dorian nods and is about to turn around when Cullen places his hand on his arm. “Here’s your duffel. Make the bed and then go to sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner, but feel free to keep sleeping if you’d rather.” Dorian jostles the box until it’s resting on his hip awkwardly, and takes his duffel from Cullen, slipping it over his shoulder before readjusting the box and going inside. He turns left past the door and slowly climbs the steps. Now that he knows sleep is mere minutes away he’s beginning to lose steam and the stairs seem like an interminable climb, especially when he hits the landing and has to turn right and climb four more steps. 

He plods down the narrow hall and looks into the first room on his right. There are four built-in bunk beds down the right side of the room, two windows along the far wall, and four dressers placed at random intervals. There are two doors on the left and Dorian’s mildly curious where they lead, but he’s too tired to investigate. He continues down the hall and walks directly into a large bedroom. He cursorily notices the cozy reading area directly across from the door, but his eyes stray past the large fireplace on the outside wall and lock directly onto the four poster king sized bed on the opposite side of the room. It’s covered with a fluffy white down comforter and lots of pillows, and Dorian whimpers with exhaustion. He stumbles further into the room and drops the duffel in the middle of the floor, looking for the bathroom so he can finish his task and climb into bed and pass out. 

There are two doors on the right side wall, just opposite the first bedroom, and he assumes one of them leads to the bathroom. He opens the first door but it’s the closet. He moves to the second door and sighs with relief. He sets the box of linens down on the sink top and reaches for the light switch. It takes a minute before he remembers there’s no electricity. But it’s bright outside and the light reflecting in the large beveled glass mirror proves more than adequate to see. Nighttime will be another story. 

That’s when Dorian notices the bathtub. It’s a five foot round, galvanized steel wash tub, and he wants to laugh, because of course it is. There’s a shower head positioned over it and old time white porcelain handles labeled hot and cold, which answers a question he didn’t know he even had about the availability of hot water. The toilet has pipes he can actually see, and he heaves a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been completely sure Cullen had been telling the truth about indoor plumbing. The two side by side sinks are also galvanized steel washtubs, set into an oak vanity with matching hot and cold porcelain handles as the shower. The bathroom is spacious and charming and Dorian promises himself he’ll admire it later. 

There were two doors on the opposite wall, and Dorian sighs disgustedly, tired of playing what’s behind door number one. He opens the first, hoping it’s the linen closet, but it leads into the first bedroom he’d seen. He closes it and opens the other door, and wants to cheer when it’s the linen closet. He loads in the towels and washcloths, and the extra linens as quickly as he can, keeping the larger set of bedding to make his own bed. 

He goes back into the master bedroom, yanks the comforter off and haphazardly puts the sheets and blanket on the mattress, too tired to be bothered to tuck anything in, and then hauls the comforter back up. With his eyes already half closed, he stripped down to his boxer briefs, dropping his clothes in a heap at his feet, and climbs between the sheets. He manages to pull the comforter up to his chin, and is asleep seconds after his head hits the pillow.


	4. Lifeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you feel you're sinking, I will jump right over  
> Into cold, cold water for you  
> And although time may take us into different places  
> I will still be patient with you  
> And I hope you know
> 
> I won't let go  
> I'll be your lifeline tonight  
> I won't let go  
> I'll be your lifeline tonight  
>   
>   
> Cold Water  
> Major Lazer

Dorian wakes to a rhythmic tap, thump-crack, thunk. He considers that he might have dreamt it until it repeats. And repeats again. He’s still tired but his brain has engaged, so there won’t be any going back to sleep now, so he slips from the bed, pulls the sheers aside and catches his breath. “Fuck.” Cullen is naked from the waist up, sweat rolling down his back, body flexing as he swings an axe overhead, then muscles tensing as he pulls down to bury the blade in a log. 

The wood splits in two and Cullen sets the axe aside, bending to pick up the smaller logs, giving Dorian a magnificent view of his perfect ass. Dorian doesn’t bother stifling the groan. Cullen tosses the wood onto a pile and leans down to set another in place, repeating the process, and Dorian has to steady himself on the window frame as the blood rushes from his brain. “Fucking hell, Agent Rutherford, you’re trying to give me a heart attack.” He can’t tear his eyes away, watching for another few minutes before he begins to feel like a voyeur and decides he needs a cold shower.

His duffel is still in the middle of the floor where he’d dropped it, and he grabs his toiletry case from it and heads to the bathroom. He strips out of his boxers, turns on the shower, and steps directly under the cold spray, the shock taking the edge off his erection. It’s a struggle not to think about Cullen, all sweaty and gorgeous, body gleaming in the early evening sun. Pull yourself together Dorian. He’s not interested. The very mundane task of hair washing, which he hopes will distract him, does no such thing as the suds gently roll down his neck and back like a gentle caress, and he can’t help but think about the little rivulets of sweat trickling down Cullen’s body as he’d moved. Dorian is achingly hard again, and by the time he rinses his hair and begins to wash his body, he’s given up all pretense of ignoring his erection, and lets his mind wander.

A shirtless and sweaty Cullen smiles as he reaches for a glass of iced tea that Dorian offers, guzzling it down. His adam's apple bobs with each swallow, neck stretched invitingly as his head tilts back to drink the last drop. Cullen licks his lips and reaches for Dorian, pulling him against his chest, one hand resting lightly in the middle of his back. Neither says a word, and the air is thick with tension. Cullen leans in but Dorian laughs, avoiding the kiss, and buries his nose behind Cullen’s ear, darting his tongue out to lick away the sweat. There’s a tugging at the opening of his pants just before Cullen slides his hand inside and wraps his fingers firmly around Dorian’s cock. His stroke is perfect. Dorian gasps and moans against Cullen’s neck, his hands gripping fistfulls of blond curls as the pace speeds up. “Oh, fuck. Cullen.” 

Dorian groans low and throaty as he comes, hips jerking forward and knees buckling with the intensity. He snaps open his eyes and grabs for the towel rack to steady himself, gulping down lungfuls of air as he strokes himself through to the end. It’s a few moments before he can form thoughts or notice the the cold water showering down on him. He turns on the hot to warm up, letting any evidence of his activities run down the drain. Several minutes pass before he’s thawed out enough to function. He shuts off the spray and grabs a towel, rubbing himself vigorously. 

The thumping from outside has stopped and he can hear Cullen moving around downstairs, talking. He dresses quickly in a pair of khaki's and a grey v-neck tee, brushes his teeth and throws his damp hair into a low bun. There’s no way he could manage eyeliner right now. He’s more likely to poke himself in the eye if he tries. “This will have to do.” 

By the time he makes it downstairs, Cullen’s in the kitchen pulling a t-shirt over his head one-handed and holding a phone to his ear with the other. Dorian bites his lip to keep from embarrassing himself as he catches a glimpse of lightly freckled skin and tight abs before the shirt falls into place. “No, mama, really, it’s not like that. He’s a friend.” 

There’s a sharp stab of disappointment, although Dorian was never sure that Cullen thought of him in any other way. “I know I never bring anyone here, but--” Cullen rubs his neck and paces in front of the sink. “Mama, we’re costing a small fortune in phone charges. I--” Cullen sighs and leans against the sink, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Okay, fine. You figured it out. Yes.” Dorian can guess what Cullen’s admitting to, and his pulse begins to race. “About a year ago, but he moved away for a while. I… It was a last minute decision.” There’s another pause and Cullen glances quickly at Dorian and then away. “Yes, that one, mama.” There’s high pitched excitement on the other end of the line and Dorian smiles, imagining his mother’s half of the conversation. “His name?”

Dorian makes gestures for a pen and paper. Cullen points at the drawer next to him. “Just a second mama. I need to take the kettle off the stove.” Dorian rolls his eyes at the lame excuse and scribbles a quick note, handing it to Cullen. “His name’s Diodore.” He stumbles over it a bit but get’s the pronunciation right. There’s another pause and Dorian’s ready to write more if needed but Cullen seems to have things under control. “French. Yes, his parents were, but they’ve passed.” Dorian quirks an eyebrow and quietly applauds Cullen’s creativity under pressure. “Mama, I promise I’ll tell you all about him later. Would you let everyone else know I’m here? I don’t want anyone coming up and getting surprised.” 

Dorian doesn’t think Cullen could be any more adorable, especially when his face turns beet red. “Mama! I don’t care what you’ve seen before!” Dorian can’t stifle his laugh as Cullen suddenly stops and hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sass. I have to go, but please, keep everyone away for a few weeks.” Cullen pinches the bridge of his nose and nods to no one in particular. “Yes. I promise I will bring him with me the next time I visit.” Dorian gives him an encouraging smile when he glances over. “I’m sure you two will get along famously. Okay, mama. I love you. Talk to you soon. Please tell dad I’m sorry for the huge phone bill. I’ll pay him back.” Cullen hangs up and sets the phone on the counter.

“Phone call to your mother?” Dorian is utterly charmed.

“Yes. I wanted to let them know I was here so they didn’t come up to check on the place. I don’t want them involved.” Cullen fiddles with the phone and Dorian nods encouragingly. “But my mother started talking about driving out to visit with me, and when she wouldn’t take no for an answer I had to let her know someone else was here, and you heard the rest.”

Dorian debates letting it drop there, but can’t resist teasing. He’d also like to know why Cullen changed his mind and told her they were together. “So your mother thinks we’re a couple?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve never brought anyone here before. She figured it was special circumstances, which I suppose it is, just not that kind. It won’t be that bad if she slips and tells her friends I’m seeing someone and I brought him here for a romantic getaway.”

Dorian’s heart contracts painfully but he keeps his smile in place. “Well, good thing you warned them off, or we’d have a bit more than explaining to do. I wouldn’t want you to have to act like you were in a relationship with me. All the hand holding and furtive looks. You might even have to kiss me, and then wouldn’t that be awkward.” He’s trying for a deprecating tone but ends up sounding wistful instead. 

They lock eyes but Dorian can’t read Cullen’s look. They stand there, neither saying anything, but neither looking away. Dorian wonders if maybe he should finally ask if there really had been something between them, but he’s too much of a coward. “I thought phones were a no no here.”

Cullen holds it out to Dorian. “It uses satellite signals to route calls instead of cell towers. There aren’t many of those out here and Mama wanted a sure way to contact emergency services if one of us needed help. The government can trace sat calls, but the Venatori wouldn’t have access, so it’s safe. Expensive, but safe. That five minute call probably cost $30.”

“Ouch.” 

Cullen takes the phone back and sets it on the counter then moves past Dorian, squeezing his shoulder on the way by. “Hope you left me some hot water. I really need a shower.” 

Dorin sighs. “Lots of hot water left. I needed the cold to wake up. That bed is amazing.”

Cullen laughs and stops on the bottom step. “It could have been your lack of sleep. Or the lake. Water always seems to make me sleep more soundly.” Dorian manages a nod and a smile. “Okay. Shower time.” Cullen hauls himself up the stairs. “Poke around, see what’s what. Go sit by the lake if you want, it’s gorgeous out here. I’ll be down in about fifteen minutes.” 

Dorian nods and wanders out onto the porch. The evening is beautiful, and not too cool, and the sun is reflecting warmly off the surface of the lake. The gentle breeze ruffles his still damp hair as he follows the porch around to the front of the house. There’s a porch swing, and Dorian rolls his eyes but sits in it anyway and watches the ripple of tiny waves on the water. The birds and cicadas are chirping out a hypnotic chorus, and he lets the peace of the place seep into his bones. Some part of him connects with this quietness, and he’s a bit startled at how happy he is, given everything that’s happening around him. 

It doesn’t feel like a lot of time has passed since he sat down, but a freshly washed Cullen wearing tan shorts and a fitted white tee settles next to him on the swing and looks out at the water. “Hey.” Cullen smiles but doesn’t look his way. It seems like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. 

Dorian turns sideways and sets his feet up on the swing near Cullen. “Hey, yourself.”

They sit quietly for a few more minutes, Dorian watching Cullen, and Cullen looking out at the water, obviously working through something. He’s about to ask if anything is wrong when Cullen takes a deep breath and seems to come to a decision. He scoops up Dorian’s legs and deposits them across his lap. “You hungry?” 

Dorian grins and nods. “Famished.” 

Cullen finally looks over at him and smiles, settling a hand on one of his shins. “Steaks and potato wedges sound alright? It’s quick and simple, but tasty.” 

“Are you cooking?” Dorian isn’t sure what’s going on but it makes him nervous and giddy.

The sparkle in Cullen’s eyes is downright sexy. “If you pour the wine.” 

Dorian sits up. “We have wine?”

“Why don’t you go look. It’s in the last cupboard on the right near the coolers.” Cullen jerks a thumb over his right shoulder in the general direction of the appropriate spot in the kitchen.

Dorian can’t shake the feeling that Cullen’s teasing him in some way, but he reluctantly swings his feet from his lap and pads along the porch to search out the wine. He heads straight to the cupboard and opens it, afraid of what he’ll find. His heart flutters in his chest as he sees a bottle of 2004 Argiano Solengo Sangiovese, a 2005 Bodega Catena Zapata Malbec, a 2013 B Cellars Cab and 2014 Domaine Vacheron L'Enclos des Remparts Sauv Blanc.

“I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, other than the Sangiovese.” Dorian jumps at the unexpected voice right behind him. 

He turns slightly and Cullen’s right there, standing very close. “Did you try it?”

“Of course I did. You recommended it. I had to ask the guy at the store which one to get, but I liked the one he suggested. It went nicely with the pasta.” Dorian tried not to read too much into the fact that in addition to recalling that his favorite jam is raspberry, Cullen also remembers a wine he’d recommended over a year ago, and actually tried it. “Which one for tonight?”

Dorian clears his throat and pulls a bottle from the shelf. “We should open the Cab and let it breathe.” 

His heart hammers wildly as Cullen reaches past him and searches in one of the drawers. He can smell the clean citrus scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin, close enough to kiss. Dorian wants to slip his arms around Cullen’s waist and press close, but before he can even finish that thought Cullen’s offering him a waiter’s style corkscrew. “You’ll have to show me how to open it properly. I can’t seem to avoid cork in the wine, and even I know that’s bad.”

Dorian smiles and takes the corkscrew. “It’s easy. Here.” He pulls the bottle from the cupboard and sets in on the counter. “Start with cutting the foil capsule.” At Cullen’s blank look he grins and taps the very top of the bottle where the cork is. Cullen does that part without mishap and Dorian nods approvingly. “Now set the tip of the corkscrew just a bit off center so when you twist, the main portion goes through the middle.” He takes Cullen’s hands and sets one around the neck of the bottle and carefully shows him how to guide the placement of the nub with his thumb. “Just a gentle twist at the top.” He rests a hand lightly on Cullen’s forearm, watching the tip of the spiral pierce the flesh of the the cork, feeling his muscles flex powerfully beneath his palm, as the shaft slowly sinks deeper into the yielding body of the cork with each twist of his wrist. 

Dorian’s breathless, and as the last curve of the spiral is about to disappear, he squeezes Cullen’s arm and murmurs in his ear, “That’s it. Right there. Perfect.” Cullen’s hands still and he waits patiently for direction. “Firmly place the ledge of the corkscrew right on the lip of the bottle, and lift with steady pressure.” The anticipation is almost too much, and when the cork finally pops free, Dorian sighs. 

Neither moves for several heartbeats, until Dorian takes a breath and steps back, feeling like more just happened than opening a bottle of wine. “See? Not so difficult.” Cullen peers over his shoulder, looking a bit rattled, and it’s the most confirmation Dorian’s had that there’s really a thing happening between them. It might have been his own wishful thinking a year ago, but to get that same feeling now can’t be nothing, even if it never turns into something. Dorian lets that sink in, then smiles saucily and raises an eyebrow. “Shall I pour, or will you?” 

Cullen blinks and then returns the grin. “Hey, I’ve done all the work to this point. You have to carry some of the load.” Cullen reaches into the cupboard and pulls down two wine glasses. 

Dorian nods approvingly. “Very nice stemware.” He refrains from verbalizing his shock, but Cullen seems to hear it anyway.

“Mia drinks wine. I’m not sure she’s into it as much as you are, and I’ll bet she bought these mostly because she liked the way they looked, but I’m glad they meet your approval.” He smirks and jerks his head towards the bottle. “So, you gonna pour sometime this evening?”

Dorian raises his eyebrow, sniffing indignantly, which has the added benefit of filling his senses with the heady scent of Cullen, and warm cloves and cherries from the wine. He shoulders past and pours, then hands Cullen a glass. “We need to let it breathe for a bit.” Their fingers touch as the glass is passed and neither one moves to end the contact. “I thought you were making me dinner.”

Cullen grins and the air is alive again with the delicious tension. “You have to help.”

Dorian shakes his head. “Really, Cullen. My cooking skills haven’t improved much in the past year. I’m all but useless in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a pass tonight.” Cullen rolls his eyes and smiles. “You’ve had a traumatic day.” He places his hand against Dorian’s lower back and gently guides him outside to the swing. Dorian would willingly follow Cullen directly into the lake, if he’d only keep his hand where it is. Unfortunately, it’s not to be. Once he’s seated, Cullen leans down and murmurs in his ear, “Have a seat, enjoy your wine. Relax.” Dorian’s too flustered to think of anything witty to say and Cullen walks further down the porch to light the gas grill. “But tomorrow evening, you’re helping.” He grins mischievously. “How do you like your steak?”

It takes everything Dorian has not to reply with any one of the inappropriate responses that spring to mind. Dripping with juices. Firm and thick. The delay in response alerts Cullen who looks over just as Dorian smirks and bites his lower lip. “Medium rare, please. How do you like yours?” His voice oozes innuendo, and he’s gratified to see Cullen’s quick intake of breath. There’s no doubt he understands the implication, and he smirks. “It depends on my mood.” 

He looks like he wants to say something more, but doesn’t, and Dorian’s slightly disappointed. He takes a sip of his wine and closes his eyes. It’s young but lively on the tongue and he approves. “Cullen, the wine is lovely.”

“Oh, is it? Good! I honestly wouldn’t know an average one from a really good one, although I’d like to say I’d be able to identify a bad one if I tasted it.” He picks up his glass and joins Dorian on the swing. “So, what should I be tasting?”

Dorian sits up and swings his feet into Cullen’s lap, excited to talk about something he enjoys. “Take a small sip, and while you do, suck in a bit of air over your palate before you swallow. Then tell me what you taste.”

Cullen looks skeptical but, at the very least, humors him and takes a sip, almost choking on the fumes. Dorian bites his lip and tries not to laugh. Cullen blushes but smiles, and when he stops coughing he tries again. “Okay, so I think… spicy? Is that a term?”

Dorian nods. “Yes. Spicy is definitely a wine term. Can you identify anything else?” 

Cullen takes another sip. “Maybe a little bit of fruit? And no, I don’t mean grapes!” He chuckles. “But there’s a little sweetness to it.”

“Yes! Good!” He’s getting some sense of the wine and Dorian’s inordinately pleased. 

Cullen grins but seems to be genuinely interested. “So, what do you taste?” 

Dorian smells the wine. “There’s a hint of tobacco.” Cullen makes a face and Dorian laughs. “Yes, tobacco. And cedar.” He takes a sip and holds the wine in his mouth, gently swishing it around before swallowing. “There’s a bit of clove. So that’s the spice that you tasted. And it finishes with a nice burst of cherry. That’s the sweet you tasted.”

“So I got some of it right.” Cullen looks so happy with himself that Dorian can’t suppress his laughter. 

“You did. There’s hope for you yet.” Dorian nudges Cullen’s thigh with his foot. “Now, are you going to feed me soon? Or am I to be left to waste away to nothing?” He takes another sip and looks over the rim, catching Cullen watching him. Rather than look away, Dorian holds his gaze and slowly lowers the glass, licking his lips. He can see Cullen swallow thickly, but he doesn’t look away, and Dorian desperately wants Cullen to kiss him, deeply, passionately, hear his name whispered reverently. He somehow finds his voice. “Cullen.”

Unfortunately, that seems to break the spell and Cullen blinks as though he’s woken from a dream. “Oh. Cooking. Yeah, I’ll just go get the steaks.” Dorian steadies himself when Cullen abruptly stands and dumps his feet from his lap. “Sorry! Uh, more wine?”

Dorian shakes his head, trying not show his disappointment. “No, I’m fine. Just sipping at this point. Otherwise I’ll be asleep again before dinner’s over.” He manages a smile and waves Cullen in the direction of the house, openly ogling him until he disappears around the side. Dorian leans his head back against the chain supporting the swing and closes his eyes, trying not to obsess over ways to get Cullen to confirm his interest. The evening sun is warm against his face and arms and he considers slipping into a light doze but worries he’ll fall off the swing, or worse, his mouth will hang open and he’ll drool in front of Cullen. Dorian stands and rubs his face, trying to bolster his flagging energy. 

“Hey, Dor, give me a hand?” Dorian spins around, simultaneously feeling joy at the familiarity of the nickname, and pain at the memory of Felix, who is the only other person to call him that. Dorian reaches for the platter of raw steak, and pulls it into his chest, as if it will protect him from the ache trying to settle there. Cullen places a cast iron skillet of potato wedges on the side burner of the grill and turns it on before taking back the plate and setting it aside. The potatoes are sizzling and the delicious smell is a quick distraction for his hungry stomach. “We’ll let the potatoes get a start. The steaks won’t take that long.” Cullen motions to some nearby chairs and they sit. “I can keep an eye on the grill better from here.” Dorian nods but doesn’t say anything, wondering if the choice of seat has anything to do with their close proximity on the swing. Cullen doesn’t seem to notice that he’s gone quiet. “So you came up with Diodore pretty quickly. Am I pronouncing that right?”

Dorian nods. “Yes, Dee-oh-Door. And you were correct, it’s French. It was actually a name I’d thought of using for my new identity. Trying to keep with the whole same initials suggestion from the Bureau. But they approved keeping Dorian so I never used it.”

“And why something French?” Cullen got up and flipped the potatoes around in the pan, but glanced back to Dorian, waiting for an answer. 

“French was irrelevant, really. It was a D name that contained the DOR sound. Felix always calls me Dor instead of Dorian. It’s a name that would allow me to remember him. But then I could keep Dorian, so there wasn’t a need for it.” He looked at Cullen and frowned. “I suppose there might be now, though.”

Cullen nodded. “I called the Bureau before I spoke with my mother. My friends are checking to see if your current cover has been compromised. We should know more tomorrow or the day after.” 

Dorian watched him put the steaks on the grill and wondered if Cole knew what was going on. He hoped that if he could sense how Felix was, then he’d also be able to sense how Dorian was, and not worry. “Cullen, thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. For risking your career and your life to help. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“You’re welcome.” Cullen looks so earnest that Dorian believes he means it and isn’t just saying a pat response. Neither of them says anything for a few minutes, and Dorian looks out over the lake, water now calm as glass and dark green with a bright orange splotch where the sun is setting. He takes another sip of wine and his stomach lets out a loud growl. It breaks the silence and Cullen chuckles. “Alright, I’m putting the steaks on now. Another few minutes and we’ll eat.”

They sit for a little while, looking at the lake and sipping their wine. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but thoughts of Felix and another identity he’ll have to leave behind have him melancholy, and he doesn’t want that. He needs to be doing something, needs to be useful. “Shall I set the table?”

Cullen nods. “Yeah, that would be helpful. Here.” He handed Dorian his glass. “Will you take that in for me? I’m going to have my hands full here in a minute with potatoes and steak.”

Dorian takes the wine. “Of course. Mustn't let this go to waste.”

“Oh, it won’t go to waste. I’m saving it for dinner.” He would swear that Cullen winks at him, but in the fading light he can’t be sure.

“Alright, well, call if you need me to help carry something.” Dorian walks back around the side of the house and through the kitchen door, setting the wine glasses on the counter before opening and closing several cupboards until he finds all of the dishes and silverware they need. He sets them out on the table, finds some paper napkins and salt and pepper and places all of it in the center of the table just as Cullen tries to open the door. Dorian hurries to let him in and steps back to give him room with the pan and platter.

“Thanks. Here.” Cullen hands him the plate of steaks and hurries over to one of the stoves and sets the cast iron pan down. “The steak nearest you is yours. Medium rare, as requested.” He grins and places a trivet on the table before switching the potatoes over from the stove. “Water? Iced tea? Or are you okay with just wine?”

“I’ll have some water, but I’ll get it. Do you want anything?”

“Water would be nice. Thanks.”

Dorian opens cupboards until he finds the glasses and fills them both with ice, then grabs two bottles of water from a cooler. The food smells amazing and Dorian slides into the chair and digs in as soon as Cullen places the steak onto his plate. He puts the first bite into his mouth, closes his eyes and moans. “Oh my god, Cullen, this is amazing.” He grins and opens his eyes. Cullen is blushing and looking a bit flustered and Dorian isn’t sure what happened. “How’s yours?”

“Not as good as yours, apparently.” 

Dorian raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of steak. “How do you know?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, how do you know mine is better than yours. You haven’t tried it.” He cuts a small bite of his steak and holds out his fork to Cullen, who looks at him skeptically. Dorian waves the piece of steak at him. “Come on. You can’t say something like that without trying the things you’re comparing.” Cullen locks eyes with him and slowly opens his mouth, letting his tongue slip just past his teeth. A full body rush of warmth sweeps through him as he leans across the table to feed Cullen the bite of steak. It’s as if everything has slowed down to quarter speed. Cullen's mouth closes around the fork, and Dorian slowly slips it from between his lips and manages to find his seat again without falling on the floor. “How is it?”

Cullen’s still staring at him as he thoroughly chews the bite. “A bit tough on the outside, but it has a warm, tender center that practically melts on your tongue.”

“I thought you didn’t like steak that way.” Dorian’s hands are shaking as he tries to cut another bite.

“I’ve actually grown quite partial to it. So much so, that it’s what I will prefer from now on.” Cullen hasn’t moved, or cut into his steak or stopped looking at Dorian with those beautiful amber eyes. 

“So, just any steak prepared this way will do?” Dorian isn’t sure if they are actually having the conversation he thinks they’re having, or if they really are discussing steak preferences.

“Oh, no. Most definitely not. Truthfully, I haven’t had much interest in any other kind in over a year. My pallet has become quite particular.”

“Mine too. I find that everything pales in comparison.” Dorian sets his knife and fork down and places his hands flat on the table to hide the shaking.

“Dorian.” Cullen’s brow is furrowed and he looks like he’s conflicted again.

“Yes?” He wants to reach out and take Cullen’s hand, but can’t seem to lift his from the table. They stare at each other for almost a full minute before Cullen sighs, breaking the silence.

“Do you like the potatoes?”

Dorian blinks several times. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all and it takes a minute for his brain to catch up. “Oh, I haven’t tried them yet.” He slowly picks up his knife and fork and spears a potato wedge, taking a bite. “They’re good. I like them. Thank you for making dinner, Cullen. I appreciate it.”

Cullen nods and shoves a whole potato wedge into his mouth, effectively making it impossible to speak. The rest of the meal is spent in silence or innocuous small talk, and by the time dinner is done, Dorian’s energy is starting to flag again. He helps clear the table, and dries the dishes as Cullen washes them, but can’t stifle his yawns. Cullen takes the dish towel from his hand. “Dorian, you're dead on your feet. Why don’t you go to sleep?” 

Dorian nods and leans against the counter. “I promise I’ll be more helpful tomorrow. I’m really not completely useless.”

Cullen pulls an old fashioned oil lamp out of the cupboard and lights it, hands it to Dorian, making sure he has it securely in his hands before letting go, then turns him around and points him towards the stairs. “I know you’re not. Now go get some sleep. I’m actually just going to make sure everything is put away and I’m headed upstairs myself. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

“Alright.” He looks over his shoulder. “Night, Cullen.”

“Good night, Dorian. Sleep well.”

Dorian weaves his way through the living room and up the stairs, a bit out of sorts. The oil lamp and log cabin feel almost surreal, like he’s already dreaming. He’s also completely at a loss for how to sort out his thoughts about Cullen. Any other time he found himself this confused about someone he’d talk to Felix, and he misses him terribly right now. He closes the door and sets the oil lamp next to the bed, then goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. By the time he finishes his thoughts are so tangled he knows he’s not going to be able to fall asleep. 

He pads across the room to the bookshelf and peruses the titles, surprised that most of the books are of poetry or modern essays. He chides himself for assuming that the Rutherfords would read practical things like The Farmer’s Almanac and Modern Farming. He brushes his fingers along the smooth spines of the books, trying to gleen comfort from them, but he isn’t in the proper state of mind. “Oh, Felix. I wish I could talk to you.” 

He turns away from the bookshelf, and sits on the edge of the bed. There’s a small table next to him and he peeks inside. There are a few journals and pens and a few stray bookmarks but not much else. Dorian debates the invasiveness of peeking, but curiosity wins and he takes out a journal and flips through it. It’s completely blank, just waiting for the first stroke of a pen. He’s slightly disappointed, and places it back in the drawer and looks in a second journal, but the results are the same. With nothing else to do but sleep, he stands, removes his pants and shirt and sets them across the top of the dresser. He doesn’t have much with him, and hasn’t really worn either piece of clothing that long, so he’ll wear them again tomorrow. Thankfully, only Cullen will know. 

Dorian crawls back into bed and stares into the darker parts of the room where the oil lamp doesn’t cast light, and tries to untangle his thoughts. He doesn’t get very far before he loses the thread. He looks at the drawer and offers a silent apology to whoever’s journal it is. He takes one out of the drawer and opens to the first page and writes.

Felix,

I’ve never told you about Cullen. Not because I haven’t wanted to, but because circumstances have kept me from being able to contact you since I met him. And since you’ll never see this, I’m just diving in. I hope you don’t mind. 

I think I was a little bit in love with him after the two months of witness protection. You asked me why I hadn't met anyone in San Francisco and I said I didn't want to base a relationship on a lie. And that's true. But the lie wasn't my new identity. I really wasn't interested in anyone else. I compared every prospective date to Cullen, and they all came up short. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

He’s beautiful, Felix. In body and spirit. He has hair that looks like spun gold, and the most adorable curls when he gets sweaty, which dear lord, he did today and I swear I almost had a heart attack. He has kind eyes. And he’s a gentle soul. He genuinely cares about people. 

I don’t know if he’s being nice because he’s a nice man, or if there are also feelings on his part. It’s been the most frustrating back-and-forth, thinking he cares for me and then completely unsure again. 

Felix, do I tell him how I feel? Do I try to kiss him and see what happens? That’s what I would normally do, and I guess we know how that works out. So no. But I want to. I want him so much. But I want more than just physical, and that’s a daunting thought. 

I truly don’t know how to do this properly. I wish you could give me some sage advice like you usually do. You’d probably tell me to be up front and just tell him, or try to woo him. And I would laugh at you because neither one is my style. So I guess I have my answer.

I miss you Felix. More than I can ever express. And I’m not sure that the hole in my heart will ever fully mend. I hope we both find some semblance of peace, wherever we’re going.

Dorian finally fis tired enough to attempt sleep and closes the journal, slipping it and the pen back into the bedside drawer and then tucks himself under the covers. He reaches a hand out of his cocoon and turns down the lamp so there’s still enough light if he needs to go to the bathroom later. He pulls the comforter over his head and is asleep in minutes.

 

\---

 

Dorian opens his eyes, instantly wide awake. The floorboards creak and knows someone is in the room with him. His heart hammers wildly and the panic is all-consuming. There’s movement on the other side of the bed and he tries to think of what’s nearby that he can use as a weapon. The only thing that comes to mind is the lamp. He’s trying to figure out how to make that work when the mattress dips and he’s suddenly pinned to the bed with the comforter pressed to his face, cutting off his air. He tries to throw the attacker off, tries to kick and flail his arms, but he can’t move. He tries to scream for Cullen, but the fabric is effectively a gag over his mouth. He can’t breathe, his lungs are fire and pain is everywhere. He’s utterly terrified and can’t do a thing.

“Dorian! Dorian, wake up. You’re having a dream. It’s just a dream. You’re safe. You’re fine.”

Dorian opens his eyes and gasps for air. Cullen’s sitting next to him on the bed, looking concerned. He stares into the dark corners of the room, and then down at the tangled bedding and it starts to sink in that it was all a nightmare. He sobs with relief and tries to fight his way out of the sheets. 

“Dorian. Shhhhh. It’s alright.” Cullen helps him sit up and untangle his limbs. Dorian’s shaking and things don’t yet seem real, but he’s coherent enough to keep telling himself it was all a dream. Cullen holds out a hand towards him and Dorian lunges forward, taking it and pressing himself against Cullen’s chest. He barely contains a whimper of relief as Cullen’s arms immediately wrap around him and hold him tightly. “Breathe for me, alright? Just take some deep breaths, Dorian.” Cullen rocks him gently and slides a hand into his hair, rubbing his scalp lightly. “That was a bad one, huh?” Cullen keeps his voice low and calm and all Dorian can think is how incredibly safe he feels now. He only nods and rests his head on Cullen’s shoulder. “Do you still get them a lot?” 

Dorian shakes his head. “When I first moved to San Fransisco I did. But after a few weeks they stopped. This is the first one since then.” Cullen makes a non-committal sound but keeps rocking him back and forth until he stops shaking. Reluctantly Dorian finally sits up and tries for a smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s alright. I kept the bathroom doors open so I could hear if you needed… anything.” They kneel in front of each other, not saying a word and it’s starting to become awkward. He really wants to climb into Cullen’s lap and be held, but since he’s awake now, that isn’t actually necessary. That’s when Dorian notices that he’s only wearing his boxer briefs and Cullen’s dressed in flannel sleep pants. He’d have found it ironically amusing if he hadn’t just been scared out of his wits. “Do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

Dorian thinks about it for a minute, then nods and slides down onto the mattress. Cullen straightens the bedding and all but tucks him in like a child, brushing his fingers down his arm and squeezes his hand. He tries to let go, but Dorian holds on tightly and their eyes meet in the dimness. Before he can think too much, Dorian softly whispers, “Stay.”

Cullen freezes, then looks at the chair by the window, then back at Dorian. “Alright. I can pull over the chair. Just let me get my sweatshirt.”

Dorian grips Cullen’s hand more firmly. “No. Stay.” He tugs gently and holds his breath, afraid Cullen will refuse. But he doesn’t. Cullen barely hesitates, then climbs into bed and slips beneath the covers. He lays his head on the empty pillow and faces Dorian, still holding his hand. It’s Dorian who lets go first, but only so he can scooch forward to fit himself against Cullen, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and looping his arm around his waist. 

There’s an awkward moment where Dorian thinks Cullen will balk and get out of bed, but then he’s being pulled closer, and held securely with one arm while fingertips ghost along his back. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

Dorian relaxes against him and closes his eyes, so very unsure of what’s going on, but too afraid to ask what this is. He’ll take what he can get and be grateful. All of the tension melts out of his body and as much as he wants to stay awake and memorize this moment, he’s asleep almost instantly.


	5. Thinking About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long chapter this time and it covers a lot of ground, but I couldn't figure out where I would want to break it into two chapters so...
> 
> This is also the week where we definitely earn the E. ;)
> 
> \---
> 
> Thinkin’ About You  
> Bob Regan, Tom Curtis Shapiro, Robert Joseph Regan
> 
> I'm not quite sure what's goin' on  
> But all day through and all night long  
> I've been thinkin' about you  
> I've been thinkin' about you
> 
> The look in your eyes when you smile that way  
> The sound of your voice sayin' my name  
> I've been thinkin' about you  
> Just keep thinkin' about you
> 
> This single minded fascination I've got  
> Do you call it love  
> If you don't then what  
> All I know is I don't know what you've done  
> But this train of thought ain't about to jump the track that it's on
> 
>  
> 
> _________

Fingertips softly tickle the fine hairs at the small of his back, and it feels delicious. Dorian wants to arch into it and stretch but he’s too lazy and happy where he is. _This is a lovely way to wake up_. Slowly, his sleepy brain begins to function, and he can’t remember where he is or who he’s with and momentarily panics. He cautiously opens his eyes. His face is nestled into the crook of a muscular neck, and he can see a well defined chest covered in thick blond hair. He scans what little of the room he can see from his position, and stops when he spots the oil lamp on the bedside table. He breathes a sigh of relief before his heart rate picks up again. _Cullen_.

He’s draped across half of Cullen’s body, their legs are tangled together, one of Cullen’s hands distractingly caressing along the edge of his boxers and the other gently cupping the back of his head. The stubble on Cullen’s cheek lightly scrapes against his forehead as they breathe. It’s an incredibly intimate position, and Dorian wonders if Cullen’s aware, or if this is all happening while he’s asleep.

“Good morning.” Cullen’s voice is a bit hoarse, but he sounds completely alert. Dorian smiles, giddy as he realizes that Cullen knows what he’s doing. He risks snuggling closer, and that earns him a chuckle. 

“I thought I was dreaming.” Once the words are past his lips Dorian wants to take them back, and hides his face in Cullen’s neck. 

He’s completely stunned by the kiss to his forehead. “Only if we both are. Do you want some breakfast?” Thankfully, Cullen doesn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon, because Dorian isn’t ready for that. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready. He’s waited for this for too long.

“Mmm. Maybe. What time is it?” It doesn’t feel like they’ve slept late, but Dorian also isn’t tired.

“Probably about seven thirty. The birds woke me.”

“I didn’t keep you awake?” He doesn’t remember having any more nightmares, or thrashing about, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“No, you snuggled right in and were out for the night.” The amusement in his voice has Dorian’s cheeks burning. “It was very sweet, actually.”

He tentatively ghosts his fingertips across Cullen’s chest, and when there isn’t any protest, he does it again, and again, caressing in a wider arc with each pass. Something changed between them overnight, but for the life of him Dorian doesn’t know what. “Well, hopefully I wasn’t too annoying and you got some sleep.” 

“I slept like a log.” Cullen gently brushes his lips against Dorian’s brow and it’s almost too much to process. It’s everything he’s wanted and he doesn’t know how they got here. 

He feels, more than hears, Cullen’s stomach growl and he smiles. “Would you like _me_ to make breakfast? That’s one meal I know I won’t ruin.”

Cullen’s laugh rumbles under his hand. “Holding out on me, were you?” 

Without thinking too much about what he’s doing, Dorian lightly brushes his lips against Cullen’s neck and hears his soft inhale. He smiles and does it again, then murmurs against his skin, “I can make eggs and toast, or french toast, or pancakes made from a mix. My cooking skills stop there.”

Cullen’s voice is a bit shaky. “Well, wood stoves can be tricky, so why don’t I help you? Let’s get dressed, and then I’ll start the stove. Once it’s hot enough you can dazzle me with your breakfast skills.” Dorian thinks it’s a fair compromise and nods, although he’s reluctant to let Cullen up, and when he tries to move Dorian whines in protest. Cullen laughs again, slowly rolling out from under his weight, and stands, holding out his hand. “Come on, sleepy.”

Dorian grumbles, but it’s not very convincing with a grin plastered to his face. He sits up, scooches to the edge of the bed and rakes his fingers through his hair before taking Cullen’s offered hand and following him into the bathroom. As they fumble through their morning ablutions, Dorian steals glances at Cullen, who’s watching him just as closely, and they smile each time their eyes meet. It’s surreal, and utterly unexpected, and he’s going to be incredibly pissed if this is all a dream and he wakes up alone.

When they finish, Cullen turns to go back into the smaller bedroom but Dorian grabs his hand. “Wait.” He bites his lip and gently pulls Cullen back towards him, placing a hand against his bare chest and steps close. He leans in, their lips almost touching. His heart is racing and his stomach does a little flip in anticipation, and then he closes the gap. 

Their first kiss is tentative and gentle and everything Dorian imagined it would be like. Cullen's lips are soft, and there’s no rush, even though the heat is definitely building. Dorian pulls back slightly, giving Cullen the opportunity to end the kiss if he wants, but instead his arm slips around Dorian, and his other hand settles at the base of his neck, intensifying the kiss. Dorian inhales deeply and presses closer, hands sliding along Cullen’s bare skin. He stops thinking and lets instinct take over, parting his lips slightly, moaning as the tip of Cullen’s tongue teases the inside of his mouth. 

The kiss gradually builds until hands are scrabbling for purchase and Dorian shivers with the need for more. Cullen gently brings the kiss to an end. Dorian stands with his eyes closed, clinging to him for balance, mind still whirling as intensely as his body yearns for more. “That was…” He finally opens his eyes and looks into Cullen’s.

“Long overdue. Amazing. Too short?” Cullen’s blushing but smiling and Dorian laughs.

“All of the above.” He really can’t believe this is happening. _I just kissed Cullen. Cullen kissed me back._

“I believe you promised me breakfast.” Cullen takes a step back and then another, as if he’s resisting the pull of another kiss, until only his fingertips are touching Dorian’s hip. “I’ll meet you in the hall after we’re dressed?”

Dorian sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Fine. If you insist.”

Cullen laughs and heads into his room, leaving Dorian standing in the bathroom staring after him. He slowly brings his fingers to his lips and smiles. He never imagined the kiss would actually happen, and it was, by far, the best kiss he’d ever had. 

He hurries into the bedroom and throws on his clothes from yesterday, adding fresh socks and his boots, then pulls his fingers through his hair and twists it into a messy bun, eager to see Cullen, even though they’d only been apart for five minutes. He waits in the hall, and Cullen emerges looking sexy as hell with his curls every which way, morning stubble covering his face, and slightly rumpled clothes. Dorian reaches out and gently scratches his fingers along Cullen’s jaw. “I like this scruffy look on you.” 

Cullen takes his hand and kisses his palm then leads the way downstairs. “That’s a relief, because I usually don’t shave when I’m here.”

“Oh, you go for that whole mountain man vibe?” He approves wholeheartedly. 

When they make it to the kitchen, Cullen squeezes his hand and then lets go. “I’ll grab some wood and get the stove started. Pancake mix is in the third cooler, along with the milk and eggs.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” He narrows his eyes, squinting at him. “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?” Cullen laughs and heads outside while Dorian pulls out the necessary items and sets them on the counter. He starts opening and closing cupboards looking for a large mixing bowl, finding one just as Cullen comes back in with an armful of wood, and gets to work building a fire. It takes several moments before Dorian realizes he’s openly gawking at Cullen’s flexing biceps, and tightly stretched t-shirt. It takes several more before he can get his voice to work. “See, now I know you were a boy scout. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to manage that, but I definitely don’t mind watching you do it.”

Cullen grins and points his finger at him. “Behave. You’re supposed to be making me breakfast.” He stands up and slides his arms around Dorian. “Although we have a few minutes until the stove gets hot.” 

He places his hands on Cullen’s chest, thinking of a few other things in the kitchen that are hot. “You make it very difficult to behave.” He slowly outlines the ridges of Cullen’s chest with his fingertips, lightly teasing his nipples. 

Cullen inhales quickly but gently places his hands over Dorian’s, stilling them. “ _Behave_.” He leans close and murmurs in Dorian’s ear. “Because two can play at that game, Dorian. And I’m _very_ competitive.”

Dorian shivers, his body immediately interested in where this might go, and he laughs wickedly. “Well, I believe that’s a challenge. One that I’ll accept.” He tweaks a nipple through his shirt and turns in Cullen’s arms to face the cupboard, saucily glancing over his shoulder. “Maybe after breakfast.”

Cullen slides a hand under Dorian’s shirt and splays his fingers across the center of his chest, pulling him back against his body. Dorian tries not to react, knowing it’s exactly what Cullen wants. But then Cullen rolls his hips ever so slightly, and glides his lips along Dorian’s neck. “For the record, I like to win.” Dorian moans softly and his head falls back against Cullen’s shoulder. He’s in serious doubt of his ability to remain standing as Cullen slides his other hand into the top of his pants. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ “I don’t always play fair.” Cullen teases him, his fingers tantalizingly close but not exactly where Dorian wants them. “But I never cheat.” 

Dorian wants to respond with something witty, but his brain is hyper-focused on Cullen’s fingers and his warm breath against his neck. That is, until Cullen’s dick presses against his ass. Dorian moans and grinds back against him, not fully hard yet, but close, and his body is eager to take control. “Cullen.” He let’s go of his death grip on the edge of the counter and slides his fingers into Cullen’s hair.

For as much as he would never admit it, Dorian loves being teased like this. He’s about to give in and turn around when Cullen removes his hands and steps back. Dorian whimpers and sways slightly, catching himself as Cullen slowly pushes the box of pancake mix in his direction. “Breakfast.”

It takes several deep breaths and a good mental shake before Dorian can form a coherent thought. Eventually he manages to raise an eyebrow and stand up straight. “Not that you deserve it after such a monstrous display of coquetry.” He sniffs haughtily, snatches the box of pancake mix from the counter and tries to ignore the urge to clear the table and fuck Cullen right in the middle of the kitchen. Instead he looks in the drawers for a measuring cup. It’s a poor substitute. “It just so happens that I want pancakes, which is why I’m still willing to make them.”

Cullen chuckles and kisses the side of his head. “Thank goodness.” Dorian rolls his eyes and fights off a smile. By the time the pancake batter is mixed, and the table has been set, Dorian has control of himself again, and Cullen announces that the stove is ready. “Keep the batter to the center of the pan. You can easily make charcoal cakes if you aren’t paying attention.” Dorian squares his shoulders and approaches the stove, ready to do battle with the beast, but Cullen stays close, one hand steady on the small of his back. “I’ll help you with the first one, if that’s alright.” 

It’s more than alright, although Cullen’s hand resting where it is isn’t making concentration very easy. Their first pancake together turns out well, and Cullen lets him handle the rest on his own. Thankfully they also turn out edibly. They sit at the table and eat, spending just as much time smiling and sneaking looks at each other, as consuming pancakes. When they’ve finished, they clear the table and wash the dishes, Cullen banks the fire in the stove, and Dorian goes to the bookshelves in the living room to look for something to read. 

There are several _Farmer’s Almanacs_ shoved on the bottom shelf, and Dorian laughs. The few biographies are of people he has never heard of, or isn’t interested in, and there’s an entire shelf devoted to finding edible plants in the wild. He’s about to head upstairs to look at the books in the bedroom when he finds a thin paperback of Spanish poetry tucked between a Sudoku book and a dictionary. He slips it free and opens to the title page. _Rimas y Leyendas (selección) : Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer._ It’s been years since he’s read them and he wonders who in the Rutherford family speaks Spanish well enough to appreciate a book like this.

Cullen’s outside sitting on the swing and Dorian tentatively settles next to him, suddenly unsure what’s acceptable behavior. Cullen puts his arm around the back of the swing and slips his fingers into Dorian’s hair, playing with the lose strands at the nape of his neck. It makes Dorian shiver and he leans into the touch. 

“What did you find?” Dorian shows him the book and Cullen looks surprised. “Sabes leer Español?” 

Dorian smiles. “Sí. Español, Français, Latine, Ellinika.”

Cullen blushes. “I just read the one.” He points at the book. “That was mine from College. There are some really great poems in there.”

Dorian hadn’t meant to show off, and worries he’s made Cullen uncomfortable. “My parents insisted I learn them all, plus a few more, back when they assumed I’d be going into politics like my father. They felt it was important.” Dorian flips through the book, hoping to get back on solid footing. "Which one’s your favorite?”

Cullen looks out over the lake, and Dorian can sense the mood changing a bit, but Cullen’s fingers are still combing through his hair so he isn’t too worried. “The one that I would think about when I was missing you.”

A little thrill flows through him, and he presses closer. “You missed me?” Cullen smiles and nods. He digests that for a moment and then remembers what they were discussing. “Which poem?”

Cullen blushes and leans in to brush his lips against his forehead, then settles his cheek against his hair. “Rhyme twenty three.” 

Dorian knows which one it is. It’s short, but also one of _his_ favorites, too. “For a glance, the world. For a smile, Heaven. For a kiss… I don’t know what I’d give you for a kiss.” Dorian’s mind is a whirlwind. Cullen _did_ have feelings for him. They’ve wasted so much time. But it would have been even more painful to leave Seattle if he’d known. “I wasn’t sure you felt the same. You always acted so professionally.”

“Dorian, surely you knew. I felt like I was screaming it to everyone.” Cullen brushes his lips along his temple. “Carver certainly figured it out.”

Dorian briefly closes his eyes and leans into the kiss. “Carver? He was the other agent that last night?” Dorian wants to look at Cullen’s face, but can’t bring himself to move. 

He feels Cullen nod. “Yeah. It was his idea to patrol outside so we could have some time alone.” Cullen’s breath tickles against his skin as he sighs. “It was a sweet thought, but I couldn’t. _We_ couldn’t.”

A warmth spreads through him, as he’s fairly certain what Cullen means. But he asks anyway. “We couldn’t what?”

“So many things. We couldn’t be together, because you were leaving. Or be _together._ Even for just one night, which is what Carver thought should happen.” Dorian can’t see Cullen’s face, but he knows he’s blushing.

“I think I like Carver, and underappreciated him while he was around.”

Cullen laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “Yes, I think you two would get along. He’s a bit gruff until you get to know him, but he has a good heart, and he’s an amazing agent. He has really good instincts.”

Dorian keeps going back to Cullen’s words. “But, what about now?”

“What about now?”

“You said we couldn’t back then. But, what about now? Has anything really changed?” Dorian’s sick thinking about what the answer will be because nothing _has_ changed, and Cullen will only confirm that. He steels himself for the response, but there’s only silence, and he sits up and turns to look at him. “Cullen?” Dorian can barely breathe. 

Several emotions cross Cullen’s face, but he isn’t saying anything, and Dorian starts to move away. Cullen reaches for him, cups the back of his head and places a soft kiss against his lips. “Dorian, _so much_ has changed.” He can feel the weight of his words, and knows there’s volumes of meaning behind them, even though Cullen doesn’t explain. 

He isn’t sure he’s ready to hear some of it anyway, but he’s overwhelmed by a sense of relief and joy. “I knew I loved Bécquer’s poetry.”

Cullen laughs and they settle back against the swing. “So which one is your favorite?”

“Well, I do like twenty three, but twenty five has always seemed to fit best.”

“What does it say?” Cullen slips the elastic from Dorian’s hair and runs his fingers through the silky strands.

He sighs and sits quietly, enjoying the gentle attention. It’s been so long since anyone has touched him like this. When he finally speaks it sounds like his voice comes from far away. “It’s much longer than twenty three. It talks about love and intense desire, knowing someone so well, you can almost read their thoughts.” It was everything he wanted but had never found. “Cullen?”

“Mmm?”

“Why aren’t you with someone?” Cullen’s hand briefly stills in his hair then resumes, and Dorian glances over. There’s confusion on Cullen’s face and Dorian suddenly feels foolish. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

Cullen gently grips the back of his head. “Dorian, I just don’t understand the question. I’m happy to answer whatever you want to ask.” Cullen shifts on the swing so Dorian’s tucked against his side, resting his head on his shoulder. “Can you phrase it differently?”

Not better, not clearer, but differently. Dorian is momentarily overwhelmed with how kind Cullen is, even in his confusion, and has no idea what he sees in him. “Why are you still single?”

Cullen chuckles and squeezes his shoulder. “Have you been talking to my mother? Did she pay you to ask that?”

“Your mother thinks _I’m_ your boyfriend, so as far as she’s concerned, you aren’t single.” 

Cullen gently tilts Dorian’s face until they’re looking at each other. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not either.” 

“Oh.” A small smile grows into a grin and Dorian wants to cry and laugh and kiss him all at once. 

“That is, if it’s alright with you.” Cullen’s blushing a sweet shade of pink and Dorian decides it’s his new favorite color.

“It’s very much alright with me.” He places his hand on Cullen’s knee and laughs softly. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to have to tell your mother you lied to her.”

Cullen blushes again and looks out over the lake. Dorian is beginning to recognize the gesture. It means Cullen is going to say something he feels is personally embarrassing, so Dorian gives his knee an encouraging squeeze. “She’s been asking me why I haven’t been dating. Why I didn’t seem like I wanted to.” There is a brief pause and Dorian watches Cullen’s face, also wondering what the answer is. “I told her there was someone I met, and couldn’t forget, but he didn’t live close anymore.”

“Oh.” Dorian silently bemoans his inability to be the least bit eloquent around Cullen. “Felix asked me the same thing.” Cullen looks surprised, and Dorian continues before he loses his nerve. “I compare everyone I meet to you. There were men who asked me out. Attractive men. Sweet men. Well-off men. I couldn’t bring myself to say yes to any of them. Because they weren’t you.”

Suddenly Cullen is kissing him, hands gripping tightly, mouth demanding, and Dorian leans into him, eagerly parts his lips and moans shamelessly as their tongues caress. Cullen grabs a handful of his hair and his grip is almost painful, but it’s exciting, and a little possessive, and it’s all the encouragement Dorian needs to climb into his lap and straddle his hips. Cullens hands slide down his body and knead his ass as the kiss becomes almost frantic. 

Although he’d very much like for things to progress further, they stop, more because porch swings aren’t the most comfortable place for this kind of thing. Dorian softly touches Cullen’s cheek and scratches his fingernails through the light stubble. “I think I might have a _thing_ for you with a beard.”

“Oh yeah? I’m definitely not shaving now.” Cullen laughs and rubs his cheek against Dorian’s hand. “I love your long hair, and the nose piercing is incredibly sexy.” Cullen playfully nips at his fingers. “But would you be mad if I told you I missed your mustache?”

Dorian sighs loudly. “I miss it as well. It was incredibly traumatic when I had to shave it off. I’d had it for years.”

Cullen’s eyes sparkle mischievously and Dorian can’t help but smile in advance of whatever he’s about to say. “I thought a lot about kissing you, and the mustache figured prominently.”

Dorian feigns annoyance. “So you really just wanted to kiss my mustache? Sorry to disappoint.”

Cullen laughs and squeezes his hips. “Oh, believe me. The way you kiss? You could never disappoint.”

He’s unreasonably pleased at the compliment and nods his agreement. “True. I am exceptionally good at kissing.” He runs his index finger along the underside of Cullen’s jaw, tilting his head up until they’re looking eye to eye. He can feel the warmth of Cullen’s body where it presses against his own, and he can’t resist teasing him. “I’m exceptionally good at a lot of things.” He grins wickedly at Cullen’s blush and rapidly bobbing adam’s apple. 

“Dorian.” Cullen smiles shakily. “Behave.”

“Cullen.” He drags his index finger down Cullen’s throat and hooks it into the collar of his tee. “I _am_ behaving. This is definitely a behavior. I know. I took Anthropology, Psychology and Sociology classes in college.” His other hand tugs gently on Cullen’s curls. “They all very clearly define what a behavior is.” He pulls Cullen’s head back, holding his gaze, leans down and kisses him slowly, but thoroughly, and when he feels Cullen’s hands tighten on his waist he ends the kiss and sits up. “And this is one.” When Cullen finally opens his eyes, his pupils are blown wide and Dorian smirks. “Was there a particular _type_ of behavior you wished me to avoid?”

“I can see that conversations with you are going to be stimulating.” Dorian grins and wiggles a bit in his lap, quite pleased with himself. He slides his hands down Cullen’s chest and is about to lean in again when the sat-phone rings and they both glance towards the kitchen. Cullen starts to stand and Dorian quickly scrambles out of his lap, letting him up. He’s anxious about who would be calling, and why, so he follows just in time to catch the start of the conversation. 

“Carver, you got my message. Yeah, I need some help. Dorian may have been compromised and I need you to see what you can find out.” There’s a pause and Dorian assumes Carver’s speaking. “He called me.” Cullen pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, he was at the hospital.” Another brief pause. “No! I had no idea he was going to visit Felix. I hadn’t had any contact with him since the trial!” Dorian can hear a loud voice from the other end of the phone and Cullen’s neck turns a bit pink and he rolls his eyes. “Yes. Dorian’s here.” The blush gets deeper and Dorian relaxes a bit knowing Cullen would cut off the personal line of questions if there were more serious things to discuss. “Carver, I certainly hope you don’t honestly think I’m going to answer that. It’s none of your business.” Cullen glances over at him and smiles tentatively. Dorian smirks, crosses his arms against his chest and leans a hip on the table. “I’m _not_ talking to you about this Carver. And tell Aveline I’m taking two weeks of vacation effective immediately. She can complain all she wants. I have so much time wracked up she should be grateful I’m finally taking some of it.” Cullen nods. “Alright. And thanks, Carver. Call back when you know something.” Cullen hangs up and walks towards Dorian, holding out his hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

They spend a good portion of the day exploring the lake area. There are few houses, and fewer people, and Dorian can see how spending time in a place like this could be appealing. It’s almost as if the entire world has fallen away and they’re the only two left. It’s incredibly peaceful. The walk gives them the opportunity to talk, although by unspoken agreement they stay away from discussing what’s developing between them. 

Cullen tells him about random things he’s done over the past year, and going into detail about his family. It’s very obvious that they are very close and incredibly important to him, and the concept is intriguing but very foreign to Dorian. “My older sister’s name is Mia. She’s married to Sam and they have two boys. Will’s thirteen and Jasper’s eleven. Then there’s me. Next is my younger brother Branson. He’s married to Meg, and they have a son Ben who’s ten, and twin daughters, Gia and Dani. They’re seven. The youngest is Rosalie. She’s married to Matt, and they have a son, Cody, who’s three.”

By the time Cullen’s done talking about them, Dorian knows that Will is very science minded with an affinity for chemistry, Jasper is mischievous and loves to play practical jokes, Ben’s almost a carbon copy of Cullen, steady, thoughtful and kind, and is totally in awe of his uncle. Gia loves animals better than people, and Dani’s very social and can get along with anyone. There isn’t much to differentiate Cody from most three-year-olds, except he’s already reading and is sometimes too smart for his own good. The stories are entertaining, and it makes Dorian feel more connected to Cullen. 

When Cullen asks Dorian about his family he shares more than he thinks he would. He tells him all about his parents, his repressive upbringing, his subsequent rebellion and his inevitable expulsion from the family. Somehow talking in this setting, without direct eye contact, and after Cullen had revealed so many details of his own life, makes it easier to tell him even the worst parts. Cullen actively listens and doesn’t judge, though Dorian is only too aware that it would be easy to do so. Many others have. However, he feels a sense of relief when Cullen changes the subject to focus on Felix. 

Dorian gladly tells him all about their adventures growing up, and how Felix was there for him when no one else was. He tells him about the special bond they have, how kind and generous and patient, and important he is. Cullen offers Dorian a steady hand over a particularly rocky area, taking the opportunity to lace their fingers together after they’ve navigated past it. “So, you two never were together?”

“You mean, as in dating? No. There were never any feelings like that between us. He’s like my brother, and I would do anything for him. But there was never any romantic or sexual feelings like that for either of us.” He grins and squeezes Cullen’s hand. “Although there were a few times where we pretended to be together to save one of us from some obnoxious lech who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” It’s a relief when Cullen seems to understand, and he surprisingly doesn’t regret telling him any of it. 

The lake is too big to walk completely around so after a few hours they turn around and retrace their path. When they’re finally back at the house Cullen makes them a quick lunch of sandwiches and then suggests a nap. “Only a nap. No funny business.” Dorian pouts but the fact is he isn’t used to so much activity, and he’s still too worn out from yesterday to protest. He turns towards the stairs but Cullen grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door. “This way.” 

Dorian isn’t sure where they’re going and tries to come up with a tactful way to decline sleeping on the ground as they head outside to the shady side of the property. “Have you ever slept in a hammock?” 

“No.” There’s a large one strung up between two pines and Dorian looks at it skeptically. This might not be much better than the ground.

“Come on. It’ll be fine.” It takes some maneuvering, but eventually they are cuddled together in the fabric cocoon, and Dorian’s surprised at how comfortable it is. It’s cozy, bugs can’t get to them, and best of all, gravity is pulling them together. They’re practically nose to nose and Dorian’s tempted to kiss Cullen, but fooling around in a hammock doesn’t sound any more feasible or safe than a porch swing. 

Cullen grins and scooches lower, tucking his head under Dorian’s chin and wrapping his arms around him. It feels incredibly familiar and intimate, and Dorian closes his eyes and combs his fingers through Cullen’s curls, enjoying the soft tickle between his fingers. It isn’t long before the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore and birds singing through the trees lull him to sleep.

\---

He slips into a clean button front shirt and looks in his duffel. He has two more days of clean clothes and then he’s not sure what he’ll do. He might borrow some of Cullen’s things, but there’s no way he’s washing his clothes in the lake. He’ll draw the line there if he has to. He laces up his Docs and goes downstairs to help with dinner.

Cullen’s in the kitchen and looks over when he enters. “Just in time. We’re having spaghetti. Remember how we made the meat sauce?”

Dorian’s stomach does a little flip and his cheeks are warm. The recipe is burned in his mind after that last night in the safehouse, as is the feel of Cullen’s lips against his temple and the cologne he was wearing. “I remember.” 

His reaction must be apparent, because Cullen is blushing as well. “Good, because you’re making it.” He hands Dorian a glass of red wine and then gestures to the counter where there’s everything he’ll need to make the sauce. “The ground beef is in the cooler.”

“And what are you going to be doing while I’m slaving over a hot stove?” Dorian breathes in the bouquet and smiles. “The Sangiovese.” He takes a sip and closes his eyes, savoring the silky texture and sweet tannins. “Cullen, you spoil me.”

He feels Cullen’s arm slip around his waist and opens his eyes to his sweet smile. “Not as much as I’d like.” His lips are soft and incredibly tender, and kissing Cullen is quickly becoming a favorite thing to do. “I’ll be outside. But don’t come out.”

Dorian raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the mystery, but Cullen seems adamant. “Alright. I’m banished to the kitchen to slave over dinner while you gallivant off into the night to do whatever it is you’re doing out there.”

Cullen visibly relaxes and smiles. “Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit. If you need me just shout out the door.” After a quick peck on the lips, Cullen heads outside. Dorian shakes his head, sets his wine down near the cutting board and starts chopping the onion. He’s made this a few times on his own, when he was lonely and couldn’t stop thinking about Cullen. At first he’d burned the onions or garlic, but he got the hang of it after a few tries, and now he’s confident that Cullen will be impressed. 

He takes his time, carefully cooking on the wood stove, frequently removing the pan from the direct heat to ensure nothing burns, and when he’s done, sets the sauce on the warmer to simmer. Cullen comes in and out a few times and is being very secretive but Dorian doesn’t ask any questions. He loves surprises and learned at a very early age not to spoil them by prying. 

The pasta’s much easier to manage than the sauce, since overheating isn’t a concern. Dorian finds the ingredients for salad and decides to add that to the menu. There are dressings in one of the coolers and he puts everything on the table. When Cullen comes through the kitchen again, Dorian’s just pulling plates out of the cupboard. “Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.”

Dorian glances at him and puts the plates back. “Oh? Are we eating directly from the pot this evening?” He’s grinning but dying of curiosity.

“Nope. Is everything done in here? It smells amazing.” He peeks under the lid of the sauce and smiles as he breathes in the aroma. “I think you’ve been practicing.”

Dorian shrugs, trying not to show how much it means that he noticed. “Maybe a bit.”

Cullen crosses the room and slips his arms around him. “You made a salad too. Definitely holding out on me.” Dorian’s about to say something snarky but Cullen’s suddenly looking nervous, although he’s still smiling. “So, are you ready for your surprise?”

“The surprise is for me?” He knows it is. _Who else would it be for?_ Cullen picks up Dorian’s empty wine glass, takes his hand and leads him out the back door. 

The sun has dipped below the horizon and twilight has settled over the lake. “Careful. Don’t trip.” 

They round the side of the house and Dorian gasps and stumbles to a stop. It’s like they’ve stepped into faerie. There are tiny lights in the trees and a flowing gauze tent near the water, with chairs and a table set beautifully for dinner, including a tablecloth and candles. There’s a small fire burning nearby adding a romantic glow, and soft music is playing. “Cullen.”

Cullen steps behind him and slides his hands around Dorian’s waist. “Do you like it?”

“Cullen, it’s beautiful.” He leans back against him and absorbs the scene like he would one of the paintings in the gallery. There are so many details that Cullen thought of, and the effort that he expended to create this is overwhelming. No one has ever done anything like this for him and he blinks rapidly to clear the prickling behind his eyes. He turns in Cullen’s arms and kisses him softly. “Cullen, thank you.” He looks over his shoulder again and laughs in amazement. “I can’t believe you did this.” 

“I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve to be treated nicely, Dorian.” No one but Felix has ever said that to him. As far as he knows, no one else has ever thought it. “Come on. Sit down and I’ll bring out the food.” Cullen leads him to the tent and holds the gauze back to allow them inside, then pulls out Dorian’s chair for him. Cullen refills their wine and kisses him softly. “Be right back.” 

He watches him jog across the yard and disappear into the growing darkness, which only reinforces the other-worldliness of the setting. He takes a sip of wine, marveling at how quickly Cullen pulled all of this together. 

It’s only a few minutes before he returns carrying a tray loaded with food. Dorian starts to stand. “Do you need some help?” 

“No, I have it.” Cullen ducks past the fabric, then deftly unloads the dishes onto the table, setting the tray aside. “Okay, I think that’s everything.” He sits down and smiles. “Go ahead. Help yourself.” 

Dorian can’t imagine a more romantic evening. The setting is spectacular, the food is delicious, the wine is amazing, and they laugh a lot, and touch frequently. Conversation flows easily and covers a range of subjects, but eventually they end up talking about Dorian’s not so secret love of wine, and his top secret, undeclared major in Oenology.

“Wait, so you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Washington University, got your masters in a year, then a PhD in Biochemistry, and landed a job at one of the most prestigious drug companies in the country, but your parents would have been upset that you took a few extra classes in winemaking?” Cullen seems impressed and Dorian nods, feeling like he sees his accomplishments properly for the first time.

“Yes. Furious actually. According to them, I should have picked all of that up for free, while growing up. So they would have considered it a waste of time and money.” 

“Damn! I knew you were smart, but now you’re starting to intimidate me.” Cullen takes a sip of his wine and Dorian shakes his head.

“Book smart, I may be. But you’re the one with the really impressive skills. You protect people. You give them hope and new lives and a future. You put criminals behind bars.” He glances around and waves his hand. “You can build things, and survive out here. That’s intimidating!” He glances over at Cullen and his stomach does a little flip. There’s a look on his face that’s difficult to define, but his smile is soft and his eyes glow like molten amber in the firelight, and as Cullen stands and walks around the table, Dorian can’t look away.

“Dance with me?” Dorian nods, smiling, and places his hand in Cullen’s. He’s gently pulled to his feet and they duck past the gauze. Smokey jazz drifts over the lake as Cullen slowly moves them around the small clearing.

Dorian stops thinking about anything but how perfect it feels to be in this place, right now, with Cullen. “Thank you for this. For taking care of me. For everything, really.”

The way Cullen’s looking at him takes his breath away. He’s never had anyone look at him like that. “I will _always_ be here for you, Dorian.” 

They dance through a few songs, but eventually Cullen brings them to a stop with a sigh. “We should probably clean up out here before it gets too late. If we were in the city I’d say leave it all until tomorrow, but with the wildlife around here we really can’t do that.” There’s nowhere that chores fit into a romantic evening, but Dorian isn’t willing to risk waking to bears or worse, so he reluctantly nods. Cullen pulls him close and brushes a soft kiss against his lips. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” 

He’s not sure what Cullen means, and it’s too dark to read any subtle nuance on his face, but a small spark is ignited in him and his voice comes out husky and deep. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Dorian carries the tray of dishes inside as Cullen puts out the fire and brings in anything that might attract wildlife. “Cullen, I thought we didn’t have any electricity. How’d you power the music and the lights?”

Cullen grins and rubs his neck. Dorian knows he’s blushing, even if he can’t quite make it out in the lamp light. “Same way we have water pressure upstairs.” Dorian gives him a blank look. “Sorry, okay. So, there’s an electric pump that moves the water to the second floor and another one to move the waste water back to the septic tank. To get power to the pumps, my dad installed solar panels on the roof, but he never wired the rest of the house. So we have some power for essentials, but that’s about it.”

Dorian’s overwhelmed at the lengths that Cullen has gone to for this evening, and he’s rendered momentarily speechless. Their eyes meet and Dorian’s heart starts beating rapidly. Cullen takes the oil lamp from the counter and reaches for his hand, stepping backwards, pulling him toward the living room. Neither says a word, and when Cullen steers them toward the stairs Dorian’s stomach does a little flip and his whole body is tingling with anticipation.

They climb the stairs in silence, and as they turn up the last few steps Cullen turns to him, stepping backward, leading him into the bedroom. There’s a tentative look in Cullen’s eye, and Dorian squeezes his hand, letting him know he’s okay, that he wants this too. Cullen smiles and sets the lamp by the bed, then wraps Dorian in his arms. “Is this alright? We don’t need to do anything if you’d rather not. I’d be happy just to hold you.” He looks utterly sincere and it’s so completely Cullen that Dorian can’t help the short burst of nervous laughter. 

“Cullen.” Dorian slips his fingers into Cullen’s curls, pressing against him. “I want this.” He bites his own lip and looks up through his lashes. “I want _you_.” 

Cullen moans and holds him tighter. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

He’s not sure who moves first, but their lips are sliding together, tongues and hands frantically exploring. Cullen shuffles him backward and when his thighs hit the mattress he stops, but Cullen doesn’t, and they collapse onto the bed. Dorian looks up at him and smirks, although his heart’s hammering in his chest and the rest of him is begging for attention. “Very smooth.”

Cullen smiles against his lips. “Wait ‘til you see my other moves.” 

Dorian slides his fingers into Cullen’s hair and pulls gently. Cheesy lines like that normally don’t do it for him, so maybe it’s the smile, or the way Cullen’s eyes sparkle, but he’s suddenly on fire and needs to be touched. “Show me.” 

Cullen dips his head and captures Dorian’s lips in a searing kiss, tongue possessively swiping into his mouth leaving him breathless and shaking. Without breaking the kiss, Cullen settles between his thighs, gripping one of his hips firmly and begins a steady rolling pressure. Dorian whimpers into Cullen’s mouth and wraps a leg around him, pulling their bodies together with each thrust of his hips. He can feel how hard Cullen is, and the way they’re frantically grinding against each other has him rushing to the edge. For a moment he doesn’t care, lets himself get just to the brink, but then he gently presses Cullen back and takes deep shuddering breaths.

Cullen instantly stops and rolls sideways, concern and worry all over his face. “Sorry. Are we going too fast?” 

Dorian barks out a laugh and gasps for air as he reaches for him, rolling up onto his elbow so they are face to face. “Only if you want this to be over in less than two minutes.” He kisses Cullen hungrily, and places a hand against his chest. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been with anyone.” He slips his hand under Cullen’s shirt, slowly caressing his bare skin. His chest is warm and firm beneath his palms, and Dorian wants to touch everywhere. “I’ve fantasized about you for over a year. I’m a little eager.”

Cullen’s neck is flushed and his cheeks are a soft pink but he’s smiling and Dorian relaxes a little. “It’s been a long time for me too.” Cullen moves a little closer, sliding his hands along the smooth fabric of Dorian’s shirt. “I’m out of practice. But it’s like riding a bike, right?”

There are several analogies Dorian might choose, but bike riding isn’t the first one that springs to mind. “Well, that’s one way to accomplish it, but there are so many better positions.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Cullen snorts and shoves his shoulder gently. “You know what I meant.” 

Dorian lets the slight momentum propel him back onto the mattress and looks up at Cullen, lightly brushing his fingertips along his arm. “What do you mean?” It was possibly the most trite thing he could say, but it gets him what he wants.

Cullen moves closer and places his hand in the middle of Dorian’s chest, toying with the first button on his shirt. “Well,” He works the button open with a quick flick of his fingers. “Once you’ve figured it out, you don’t really ever forget how to do it.” 

Cullen’s voice has dropped and damn, it’s fucking sexy as hell. Dorian wants to keep him talking. “Really?”

He can feel Cullen’s fingers sliding down his chest to the next button, and there’s a brief pull on the fabric as it opens. “Yeah. The basics are always there.” Dorian shivers as a third button opens and Cullen’s fingers tease along his skin. He reaches for him but Cullen smiles and pushes his hand away. “Maybe the finer techniques are rusty.” The fourth and fifth buttons are undone in quick succession and a breeze from the open window catches at the loose fabric, cooling Dorian’s feverish skin. “But that’s easily remedied.” Cullen’s eyes move along his body like a caress, and even in the low light Dorian can see his pupils are blown wide. He gasps and arches off the bed as Cullen places light kisses in the center of his chest. “You’re so beautiful, Dorian.”

He’s breathing rapidly and his hips won’t stay still as Cullen kisses his way up his body. It’s been so long since anyone has touched him so intimately. He slides his fingers into Cullen’s curls, moaning as Cullen’s mouth reaches his neck. “Oh, god… Cullen.” Dorian curls up off the bed and slides his other hand under Cullen’s shirt, gliding over whatever skin he can reach. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” He’d forgotten just how sensitive his neck was and Cullen’s expertly reminding him. The scrape of his beard is incredibly erotic, and Dorian can’t stop the shivers of pleasure. When the nibbling starts, he’s reduced to writhing and gasping in pleasure. “Oh god, Cullen. god. Yes! Fuck!” Cullen bites the side of his neck and Dorian surges up against his chest. “Fucking hell! Oh fuck, you have to stop or you're going to make me come, I swear to god.” 

Dorian can feel the smile against his skin and Cullen’s breath tickles. “So, would it make you come because it’s been awhile, or is your neck just that sensitive?” Dorian shivers again and doesn’t answer. No need to provide that kind of ammunition this early on. But the silence only makes Cullen chuckle wickedly. “Oh. So it’s just that sensitive.” Dorian whimpers needily, as the tip of Cullen’s tongue teases the spot just behind his ear. “Here too? Very interesting.” 

Dorian growls and pushes, rolling Cullen back against the pillows and straddling his hips. “And here I thought you were a nice man.” Cullen’s dick is pressing into the cleft of his ass and he rolls his hips against him and moans. His head falls back as he grinds down, feeling how hard and big Cullen is. It’s a little bit frightening how much he wants him.

Cullen sounds out of breath, but still manages some sass. “I _am_ a nice man.” He slides his hands up Dorian’s thighs and squeezes his hips.

_Just like riding a bike_. Dorian leans down and brushes his lips against Cullen’s as he rolls his hips again. “I want you.” He licks along the inside of Cullen’s mouth. “I’ve thought about you for so long.” He sucks Cullen’s lip into his mouth and bites gently, smirking at his gasp. “Do you want to know what I imagined?” 

The hitch in Cullen’s voice is intoxicating. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Dorian places open mouthed kisses along Cullen’s jaw, and licks the outer shell of his ear. “Kissing you was very prominent in my fantasies. You have a very sexy mouth Agent Rutherford.” 

“That’s Special Agent Rutherford.” Cullen’s voice is wrecked, and Dorian smiles.

“So sorry.” He nips Cullen’s ear. “Special Agent Rutherford.” He closes his eyes and slides lower, grinding his dick against Cullen’s, softly gasping with each roll of his hips. He can barely breathe, but the way Cullen shivers beneath him is encouragement enough to continue. “I imagined your lips kissing down my body, your tongue licking and teeth nipping until your sweet mouth was wrapped around my cock.” Cullen groans and grips Dorian’s ass, pressing against him and they both groan. “Oh, that’s nice.” He can feel Cullen nodding. 

It’s getting more difficult to speak. He’s so hard. Even clothed, the sweet pressure of Cullen's dick his has him close again. “That’s not all I thought about.” He bites Cullen’s earlobe and waits.

It doesn’t take long. “Tell me.”

He cuts right to the chase. “I thought about fucking you, sliding between your perfect ass cheeks and pressing into your tight warm body, feeling you pull me in, squeeze around me, hearing you moan and beg me to fuck you harder, faster.”

“Jesus Christ, Dorian! Get these off. Now.” Cullen reaches for the front of Dorian’s pants and he’d find the whole thing amusing if he wasn’t so achingly hard. 

Dorian shifts sideways and they both scramble out of their clothes, tossing them off the side of the bed. Cullen pulls him close again and kisses him hungrily. “Fuck, I want you. I want that. I want all of it.”

Dorian grabs a fistful of Cullen’s hair and ruts quickly against him. The skin to skin contact is even better than he imagined, and he’s teetering at the edge within minutes. 

Then Cullen reaches between them and takes both of their cocks in his hand. Dorian squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to hold on just a bit longer, and wraps his hand around Cullen’s, holding him still for just a minute. He takes a few deep breaths then opens his eyes and lightens his grip. Their stroke is firm and just the right speed. He rests his forehead against Cullen's, gasping softly as his body coils forward and they pick up the pace. All of his senses intensify as his body strains to get to that little bit further, just one more stroke, one more gasp. He buries his face in the crook of Cullen’s neck, filling his nostrils with his scent, and it’s more than he can take. 

“Oh, god! Cullen!” He grips Cullen’s thigh, squeezing tightly as his entire body pulses through his orgasm, coating their hands and slicking the stroke. The vibration of Cullen’s groan against his cheek, and the quiet litany of swearing as his hips thrust forward sliding their cocks into their layered fists one final time has them both gasping, and Cullen leans heavily against him as he comes with a choked growl.

They lie curled against each other, breathing heavily, mouthing kisses that aren’t fully formed. It takes a few moments until Dorian can think again. He’s still breathing hard, like he’s run a marathon, but he feels wonderfully boneless and completely sated. It’s better than he remembers sex ever being and he doesn’t want to move, so he tries to ignore the mess between them, gently nuzzling against Cullen’s neck. 

In what Dorian hopes is becoming a habit, Cullen ghosts his fingertips along his lower back. “Dor?”

The name is bittersweet, but the intimacy of it is reassuring. “Mmm?”

“You alright?” 

“Mmm.” Dorian untucks from Cullen’s neck and smiles at him. “I’m perfect. You?”

Cullen smiles and trails his hand up Dorian’s body, gently cupping his face. He places a lingering kiss against his lips which Dorian eagerly returns. “Never better. But we should probably clean up.” Dorian whines and snuggles closer, but Cullen pokes his side. “Come on. You know we’ll regret it if we don’t. Just a quick shower to rinse off. We’ll brush teeth, and be back here in five minutes.” Cullen backs off the bed, picks up the lamp and carries it into bathroom.

Dorian makes a few more sounds of protests but follows him, rinsing off his hands in the sink while Cullen starts the shower. He fumbles through his toiletry bag to retrieve his toothbrush, still on the orgasmic high, and stares at nothing while he brushes. Then he notices what he’s looking at, and blinks. Then grins. He lifts the small bottle of lubricant from the bottom of the travel kit and a strip of condoms goes flying across the bathroom, shocking both of them.

Cullen chuckles as he bends to retrieve the packets. “Planning ahead, were you?”

“No! Really, I completely forgot these were in there. I haven’t used this travel kit in ages! Long before I went into protective custody.” He was slightly panicked thinking Cullen would assume he’d been lying about how long it had been since he’d been with anyone.

“It’s okay, Dorian.” Cullen smiles and takes the few steps needed to pull him close. “I’m just teasing.” 

He sighs with relief and nods, leaning into him. “They’re probably expired.” 

Cullen looks at the date on the packets and grins. “Nope.” He kisses Dorian softly, cheeks pink, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “How fortuitous.” 

Dorian laughs and snatches the condoms out of Cullen’s hand. “I’m moving these to a more convenient location.” He turns to head into the bedroom and Cullen swats him on the ass just as he leaves. He lets out a squawk of protest but laughs, endorphins make him practically giddy. He tucks the lube and condoms into the bedside table and heads back into the bathroom. Cullen’s already in the shower and holds out his hand to help him into the tub. “Does anyone ever take a bath in this? It’s like a mini pool.”

“Once in a blue moon.” Dorian stifles a yawn and leans against him. “Okay sleepy. Here you go.” Cullen hands him the shampoo and they make quick work of showering and toweling off. While Cullen brushes his teeth, Dorian sits on the edge of the bed, braids his damp hair then slips between the sheets. By the time Cullen finishes in the bathroom Dorian’s lying on his side, head propped in his hand, with just enough room for Cullen to fit next to him. “I see you left me a little bit of room. Thanks.” Cullen laughs and climbs in, pulling Dorian close.

“Why waste the energy? I knew I would end up right here so I cut out the extra steps.” He drapes himself across Cullen, in almost the exact position he woke in this morning. It doesn’t seem possible that it was less than twenty four hours ago. But it’s too much to think about right now. 

“Comfy?” Cullen laughs, wraps his arms around Dorian, and kisses his forehead. 

Dorian nods and kisses Cullen’s neck, which, conveniently, is already right next to his lips. “Night, Cullen.”

“Night, Dorian. Sleep well.”

He makes a mumbly sound, and with a final deep breath, he drifts off.


	6. All That I Hope For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rima XXV  
> Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
> 
> When your tongue falls silent  
> and your breathing becomes quick  
> and your cheeks are flushed  
> and your dark eyes are half-closed,  
> to be able to see through your lashes,  
> as it shines with moist fire,  
> the blazing spark that flashes  
> from the volcano of desire,  
> my darling, I’d give  
> all that I hope for,  
> faith, spirit,  
> earth, heaven.

It’s the second morning that he wakes to Cullen’s fingertips caressing the small of his back. It feels amazing, and he stretches indulgently before sprawling across him again. “You’ve spoiled me, you know. Now I expect to wake like this all the time.” Once the words are out of his mouth he realizes what he’s said and cringes. _This isn’t forever, it’s for right now. There can’t be forever with him_.

If Cullen notices he pretends he hasn’t. “I think that can be arranged.” His voice is full of morning gravel, or innuendo, and Dorian’s not sure which until Cullen’s caresses drift lower to tease lightly at the base of his spine, sending little waves of pleasure through him. “Or maybe you’d rather be woken another way.” 

_Definitely innuendo._ Dorian grins and hooks a leg over Cullen’s, which has the added benefit of giving him more room to play. “Mmm. Now that sounds promising.” He’d love to kiss him, but morning breath puts a stop to that. “Unfortunately, nature calls. Hold that thought?” He scurries out of bed before Cullen can protest, and uses the toilet. He washes his hands and brushes his teeth before undoing his braid and running his fingers through his hair, trying to make it less bedhead and more artfully messy. 

Cullen chuckles. “You know I can see you, right? And now that you’ve brushed your teeth, I need to brush mine, because it’s all or nothing in that regard.” Cullen tumbles out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom, stepping up behind Dorian and kissing his neck before reaching around him to load his toothbrush with toothpaste. It’s all very domestic, and Dorian smiles wistfully. 

Cullen starts to brush his teeth over his shoulder. “Ugh! Barbarian.” Dorian rolls his eyes but ruins the act by laughing. He ducks under Cullen’s arm and slowly backs into the bedroom, eyes locked on him, crooking his finger in a _come here_ motion, and laughing again as Cullen visibly speeds up his brushing. Teasing him is too much fun, and knowing that Cullen is watching him intently is exciting. He turns and crawls into bed, putting on a bit of a show before lying on his side with his head propped in one hand, tweaking his nipple with the other. “I certainly hope you’ll be done soon. I’m rather lonely in this big bed.” He slides his hand down his abdomen, smirking as Cullen’s eyes follow his progress. He teases around his navel then wraps his fingers lightly around his dick and strokes himself. 

“Dorian, you’re gorgeous.” The lust in his voice and eyes has Dorian hard before Cullen even makes it back to bed. 

“Says Adonis, as he crosses the room.” In the full light of the morning sun, Dorian can finally see all of him. He can’t help but imagine how the three day growth of Cullen’s facial stubble would feel scraping against his inner thighs, and it makes him moan softly. “You are, by far, the sexiest man I have ever had the distinct pleasure to see fully naked.” Cullen’s broad chest and muscular arms and legs, are coated with a delightful mess of blond hair. His abdomen narrows to that perfect V-ridge just above his plump cock, and he looks amazing. Dorian tugs himself a bit more firmly. 

Cullen is doing his fair share of ogling, and there’s a hunger to his gaze that’s exciting, and makes Dorian’s heart race. “Do you remember what you said last night?” Cullen crawls into bed and slides his hand along Dorian’s hip.

Dorian knows he means the fantasy he whispered to tease him. “Yes.” He’s spent many nights thinking about Cullen, and that particular one is his favorite.

“Do you still want that?” Cullen smiles a bit shyly and now it’s all Dorian can think about. 

“Yes. Very much.” His heart is pulsing in his neck and he knows Cullen can see it. “The question is, do you?” He wants to touch Cullen, caress his skin and kiss him until he’s dizzy, but he can’t move a muscle. Cullen leans in and licks along the throbbing vein in his neck, and Dorian moans. 

“God, yes. Please.” Cullen’s amber eyes are almost black, and the _yes_ is all he needs to hear. Dorian slides his fingers through the soft fur on Cullen’s chest, gently pressing him back against the pillows. He chases after him, licking his lips and kissing him hungrily. They know each other’s mouths now, and they move with an eager familiarity, tongues sliding together teasingly. He feels Cullen’s fingers in his hair, cupping the back of his head. “Dor.”

He doesn’t want to stop kissing him to talk. He has better things to do with his mouth. He manages a mumbled, “Yes, darling?” as he kisses along Cullen’s jaw, brushing his lips against his scruff. The almost-beard is rough and makes his lips tingle like he’s eaten something spicy. Cullen makes soft moaning sounds and tilts his head, exposing his neck. “Ooooh. I see.” Dorian smiles and dips his head down to nip at Cullen’s throat. He follows the curve of his jaw and flicks out his tongue to tease at the spot just behind his ear, slowly kissing and sucking lower. Cullen’s pulse is beating wildly beneath Dorian’s lips, and he’s making soft cooing sounds that are incredibly erotic. Dorian rocks his hips forward, dragging his cock against Cullen’s thigh. “I love the way you smell. Citrus, and soap.” He bites at Cullen’s shoulder, then kisses down his chest. “A little salty, and smokey.” 

He sucks a nipple into his mouth and Cullen arches against him with a little gasp. “You make me sound like one of your expensive wines.” Dorian sucks a little harder, nibbling gently. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” Cullen grips his hair and Dorian closes his eyes, letting his head tilt back slightly with the pressure of his fist. 

He’s not expecting it when Cullen gently bites at the thick muscle of his shoulder. “Oh, Fuck! Cullen!” He gasps and writhes against him. 

The soft chuckle tickles his skin. “I hope so, although I’m enjoying the foreplay.” Dorian feels him smile against his neck and leans into his mouth, silently begging for more. Cullen licks and sucks at his skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make Dorian groan and squeeze his eyes shut. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Oh, god. Cullen.” He slides his hand between Cullen’s legs, squeezing his cock before giving him a gentle tug, smiling as Cullen moans and spreads his legs wider. 

The heady scent of arousal tickles his nose and it takes everything Dorian has not to slide down Cullen’s body and bury his face in the crook of his hip. Instead he kisses Cullen’s chest, licking delicately at the fine sheen of sweat, taking his time moving lower, and anticipating his reward. The fluttering of Cullen’s abs beneath his lips is a wonderful stroke to his ego. “Dor.” Dorian smiles against his skin, nibbling and licking around his navel. “Dorian.”

The wrecked tone in Cullen’s voice is enough to make him pause. He’d meant to tease him longer, maybe make him whine a bit, but the look in Cullen’s eyes and the shake in his voice is incredibly arousing, and he’s not sure how much more Cullen can take. “Yes, darling?”

“Please.” Cullen’s eyes are begging, and Dorian’s mouth waters imagining his beautiful, thick cock heavy on his tongue. 

Dorian grabs the base of Cullen’s cock and lightly rubs his lips against the tip, coating them with salty precum. Cullen’s hips jerk forward, and the hand in his hair tightens and Dorian smiles, licking his lips and watching Cullen as he places open mouthed kisses from tip to base. 

His scent is stronger now, and it’s making Dorian a bit crazy. He pushes Cullen’s legs further apart, mouthing at his balls and brushing his lips against the soft skin of his inner thigh. “I have imagined doing this so many times.” He licks him from base to tip and sucks him into his mouth greedily, stroking himself, trying to take the edge off. 

“And how does it compare?” Cullen’s voice is reedy and shakes with the effort to speak.

Dorian slowly slides his lips all the way down, pausing to swallow as the head of Cullen’s cock hits the back of his throat. Cullen gasps and his hips twitch, pushing him further into Dorian’s throat, making him gag a little and cough. He backs up to catch his breath and smiles at a concerned Cullen. “The reality is so much better.”

“Dorian, you don’t need to -” 

He grins and clears his throat. “But I want to. I’m just out of practice.” He looks up at Cullen through his lashes and smiles seductively. He licks around the head of his cock again before slipping him between his wet lips, and sinking down slowly. This time he relaxes his throat, letting Cullen slip deeper, trying not to smirk as Cullen groans and slowly thrusts in and out of his mouth. 

Cullen’s hands are gentle as they weave into his hair and comb back the sweaty tangle. “Oh, god, Dor, that feels so good.” Cullen backs off, giving Dorian an opportunity to catch his breath. “You’re amazing.” 

He mouths at Cullen’s balls, pressing his nose against them and inhales deeply. “Fuck. You smell incredible. I’m so hard right now.” 

He’s not expecting it when Cullen hauls him up and rolls over him, kissing him until they’re both moaning and rutting against each other. He’s equally surprised as Cullen licks a line down his chest and sucks him into his mouth. He arches off the bed in shocked pleasure, gasping as Cullen bobs his head, stroking while he sucks. “Cullen! Oh god!” He rests his hand on Cullen’s neck and watches his lips stretch around him. “I love your mouth. I thought about this so many times.”

Cullen takes his time, pressing the flat of his tongue firmly against the sensitive spot under the head of Dorian’s cock, rubbing little circles and tugging gently at his balls. Dorian shivers and wants to close his eyes, but then he’d miss seeing the way Cullen seems to be thoroughly enjoying sucking him like a lollipop. Cullen finally releases him with a quick pop and grins up at him. “You thought about a lot.” He crawls up Dorian’s body and nuzzles into his neck. “I like that you thought about me.” Cullen swings his leg over Dorian and straddles his hips. “I want you, Dorian. I want to feel you.” 

Dorian’s cock throbs to the rhythm of the silent _yes_ repeating in his head. “Like this?” He strokes his hands up and down Cullen’s thighs.

‘Yeah. Just like this.” 

Dorian sits up against the headboard, pulling Cullen with him, and reaches in the side table drawer, pulling out the condoms and lube. It’s not very sexy, but he tries to make it as fast and unobtrusive as possible. Cullen takes the condom from him and opens the packet then reaches behind himself to stroke Dorian’s cock and slide it on in one swift motion. Dorian gasps and pulls him down, licking into his mouth. “Jesus, that was erotic.” At this angle, his dick is gliding between Cullen’s cheeks, and he moans as they rock against each other. “Fuck, you are so sexy.”

Cullen grins and bites Dorian’s lip. “I wasn’t sure I could still do that without looking.” He grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes it into his hand, generously coating Dorian’s cock as he kisses him. “I want you. So much.” Dorian gasps into his mouth, hips twitching with each stroke. Cullen raises up on his knees and positions himself over Dorian. “Just take it slow. Okay?”

Dorian nods and grabs Cullen’s hips to help steady him, trying to stay still, and let him control the pace. There’s a bit of fumbling and initial resistance, but then he feels Cullen relax and pull him in. They both gasp, and Cullen falls forward pressing his mouth to Dorian’s, licking between his parted lips while he slowly sinks lower. They moan into each other’s mouths and Dorian caresses every inch of him that he can reach, fighting the urge to thrust or rush. Cullen’s groan of relief and the way he grinds down against him as he bottoms out takes Dorian by surprise, but it’s the signal he’s been waiting for. He thrusts into Cullen, grabs his ass, kneading the muscles and spreading his cheeks to allow him to slip just a bit lower. 

Each breath is a long inhale followed by a soft moaning exhale as Cullen slowly raises up then gently sinks back down, riding him perfectly. By sheer force of will Dorian keeps his thrusts slow, drawing them out so they match Cullen’s pace and they don’t finish too quickly. He kisses Cullen’s lips, and scrapes his fingers down his back. “Darling, you feel so good. So tight.” 

Cullen cups his face with both hands and devours his mouth. It’s intimate and possessive and Dorian’s heart does a little flutter of yearning. He wants Cullen. More than just physically, but he’ll take what he can get. 

Cullen sits up and Dorian surges forward, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his neck and chest as he rocks into him. The best he can do is try to show him and hope he understands. They’re both sweaty and moaning and Dorian is burning with need. Cullen’s fingers grip his hair, pressing their mouths together. “Fuck, it’s so good, Dor.” He grinds down against him, over and over. “Oh, yes. Oh, oh, fuck.”

He wraps an arm around Cullen’s back and moves them to the edge of the mattress before he lifts him with ease as he stands. Cullen holds on as Dorian turns and lays him across the bed, thrusting forward just as Cullen raises his knees, and he sinks deep into him. “Oh, fuck! Cullen.”

“Yeah, oh god, just like that, Dor. Fuck.” Cullen slides his hands up the back of Dorian’s thighs and grabs his ass, pulling him deeper. “Please, faster, please.”

Dorian snaps his hips forward and picks up the pace, moaning with each thrust. “Good?”

“So good. So fucking good.” Cullen strokes himself in time to the thrusts and pulls Dorian down to kiss him again. 

“Fuck, Cullen, you feel so good.” He thrusts harder, and Cullen’s moans change pitch, becoming more urgent, and he knows they won’t last much longer. “Cullen. Fuck. Fuck, I’m close.”

Cullen strokes himself faster. “Dor.” His blond curls are dark with sweat, his face is flushed and his lips are red and kiss bruised, and he’s gorgeous. Dorian groans and thrusts faster. “God, Dorian, I want to watch you come. Please. Come for me?” Cullen wraps his ankles around Dorian's hips and pulls him deep with a quick snap. 

Dorian moans and his hips lose their rhythm as his focus narrows to the tension coiling almost painfully in his gut. Then everything explodes and he forgets how to breathe. His hips shake with each pulsing of his orgasm and it seems to go on and on until he sees sparks of light behind his eyes, and his lungs start to scream. Just when he thinks he might actually pass out, his muscles relax all at once and he collapses over Cullen, gasping for air. It takes a minute or two for his brain to recover, and Cullen smooths his hair out of his face and kisses his brow. “You are so beautiful, Dorian. So damned sexy.”

Dorian smiles against Cullen’s neck and kisses him behind his ear. “Thank you.” He forces himself up onto his elbows and caresses Cullen’s cheek. “I assure you that I feel the same about you.” He softly kisses him, and groans as he carefully slides away from Cullen and tosses the condom in the trashcan. Cullen is sprawled across the mattress, smiling at him and stroking himself slowly. Dorian devours him with his eyes before he bats Cullen’s hand away and replaces it with his own. “Mine.” Cullen laughs but lays back and lets him take over. 

Dorian strokes him with one hand, sucking him into his mouth and caressing along his thigh and abs with his other. Cullen groans and watches him intently. “Oh, yeah. Dorian.” His moans become higher in pitch and his hips twitch randomly, and Dorian knows he’s close. Cullen grips his hip with one hand while the other grabs a fistful of his own hair. “Fuck, yeah, oh yeah, oh god! Dorian!” 

Dorian strokes him as he arches off the bed with a loud groan, letting Cullen slip from between his lips just as he pulses through his orgasm, come shooting onto his chest in short but intense bursts. He strokes him through to the end, caresses his thigh and places soft kisses along his body as he crawls up the bed to collapse next to him, nuzzling into his hair. 

Cullen slides an arm around his neck and pulls him in for a messy kiss, and Dorian goes eagerly, needing his touch as much as wanting it. He hooks a leg over Cullen’s and snuggles as close as he can. His chest feels full with emotions, things he wants to tell him, but is still too afraid to say. Cullen caresses his cheek and kisses him softly. “That was amazing. You’re amazing. I feel incredible.” He kisses him again. “How about you?”

Dorian laughs breathlessly. “Amazing does seem to cover it.” He caresses Cullen’s chest, his voice suddenly quiet. “It was definitely more than I expected, and exactly as perfect as I hoped it would be.” Cullen was everything he’d ever wanted. The kind of man Felix had always hoped he’d find.

“That’s some pretty deep thinking going on in your head, Dor.”

Dorian chuckles and kisses Cullen’s temple. “Actually, it’s just me struggling to put thoughts together after you scrambled my brain.” 

“Well, then fortification is in order. How about we clean up and I make us some eggs and toast?”

Dorian collapses on top of Cullen. “Oh god, yes please. I’m famished.” 

“Okay then. Up. Showers. Dressing. Then breakfast.” Cullen slaps Dorian’s ass, laughing. 

He protests loudly as Cullen rolls him off of his chest, but he eventually follows into the bathroom. Cullen is in and out of the shower, washing quickly before Dorian has even finished wetting his hair. He’s too loose limbed and sluggish for speed, and Cullen indulges him, letting him hog the hot water. Cullen steps out of the tub and Dorian sneaks a peek at his perfect ass as he bends over to dry his legs. “I can feel you staring at me, Dorian.” Cullen turns around, grinning, and pinches Dorian’s hip. “Don’t take too long. I’ll go down and start the stove.”

Dorian nods and closes his eyes, letting the spray run over his face for a minute before he begins to wash. He truly can’t remember the last time he felt this good, or this happy, Felix’s situation aside. Somehow, he’s thought more about Felix in the last three days than he has in a very long time. It’s almost like Felix is here with them, present at least in spirit. 

Dorian finishes washing and rinses off, then carefully steps out of the tub and towels dry. He’s beginning to get his fine motor skills back by the time he pulls on a pair of black chinos and a grey v-neck tee. He sits on the edge of the bed to put on socks and boots, and the smell of sex and Cullen surrounds him. It’s all too perfect, and he wants to gush about it to Felix. Since he can’t, he reaches for the journal.

_Felix,_

_I am totally and completely done for. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to leave this and start yet another new life, when I want this one so badly. I love him. And no, I haven’t told him. I’m not sure how I do that if I have to leave him behind. The thought makes me nauseous, but it’s not up to me._

_If it were, I would take your advice. I would love him intensely and passionately, with everything that I am. We’d laugh together, and someday we’d have a family. I would live for both of us Felix, if it were up to me._

\---

“Carver. What’s the situation?” Dorian sets the breakfast dishes in the sink as Cullen’s face closes off, and his stomach drops. “Okay. Can someone contact Dorian’s assistant at the gallery? Supposedly he can gather some personal items and hold them for us.” There’s another long pause. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to talk about it and let you know. But if you can get us the possible options it would help.” Cullen smiles at him and Dorian walks across the kitchen and slips his arm around his waist. “No, you’ve been a huge help, Carver. I’ll call you when we have a plan.” Cullen nods at whatever Carver says and ends the call.

“Well, that was Carver. And there’s good news and bad news.” Cullen sets the phone on the counter and pulls Dorian against him.

Dorian doesn’t hesitate. “Good news.” Cullen’s chuckle makes him smile. 

“I didn’t even ask which you wanted first.” 

“But you were going to ask, and I prefer to hear good news first. That way if it’s amazing news I’ll be properly amazed. But if I hear the bad news first then the amazing news will only be good at best. So I want the best possible feeling from the positive news before I hear the bad.” He looks expectantly at Cullen.

“Why does that actually make a lot of sense?” Dorian pinches Cullen on the arm. “Ouch! Alright! Alright!” Dorian happily settles against Cullen’s chest and waits. “Carver’s going to help us figure out what our options are so we don't have to spend the rest of our lives living in the National Forest.” 

Dorian smiles softly and caresses his chest. “I don’t know. It’s been pretty good so far, except that there’s no electricity, and the grocery store and laundromat are an hour and a half away. So what’s the bad news?”

“The Venatori have traced you to your San Francisco identity, so you can’t go back. Carver’s going to get Cole to collect some of your personal things. He’ll have to figure out what that is on his own, because you can’t call him. He can hold onto your stuff until Carver can collect it for us.”

That stops Dorian. “Us?” Surely it was a grammatical error.

“Us. If that’s alright.” Cullen’s blushing but his gaze is steady and his arms are firmly settled around him, and Dorian’s stunned.

“Cullen, you don’t need to run. You aren’t compromised. The Venatori don’t know about your connection to me. You have parents, and siblings and a life and…” 

“Dorian.” Cullen pulls him closer until their foreheads are resting together. “Do you honestly think now that I finally have you, I’m ever letting you go again? I thought about you every day for a _year_. I thought about calling you, or just showing up and telling you how I felt. But I didn’t want to compromise your new identity. You deserved some peace after everything you’d been through.”

“You wanted to come find me in San Francisco?” He fiddles with the collar of Cullen’s tee and tries to remember to breathe. 

“Yes.”

“You thought about me every day?”

Cullen smiles and squeezes him. “ _Every_ day. At least once, but usually more. I wondered what you were doing, and if you ever thought about me. I thought about what we’d be like together, if you hadn’t had to leave.”

He looks into Cullen’s eyes. “You imagined us together?” He’s giddy and part of him doesn’t believe the conversation is really happening.

Cullen frowns. “Didn’t you?”

Without thinking about being cautious, he let’s the words flow freely. “My entire existence revolved around thinking about you. I replayed every day of our two months together in my head. But I mostly wondered if you’d like Dorian Patel more than you liked Dorian Pavus.”

Cullen smiles and Dorian feels him relax. “And is Dorian Patel so different from Dorian Pavus?”

He nods. “Yes. Dorian Pavus had a lot of baggage. He’d been disowned by his parents, his mentor had gone insane, his best friend was dying alone because of him. Dorian Pavus wasn’t a very happy man.”

“And what about Dorian Patel?” 

“He had family, but most of them were conveniently in India.” Cullen raises his brows and Dorian shrugs. “It made it easier to explain why no family was around.” He smiles and continues. “He was an openly gay man, loved and accepted by his fictitious family, living in a highly tolerant, if not warmly embracing city. Dorian Patel had a much happier life than Dorian Pavus.”

“Dorian, No matter what your name, you’re still you.” Cullen brushes his palm against the stubble along Dorian’s jaw. “You can call yourself whatever you want and I will still love you.”

Dorian’s eyes widen and he can’t seem to breathe, or blink or move a muscle. “How can you love me?” It’s said softly, in an almost childlike voice. 

“I’m not sure I understand your question.” Cullen pulls him closer and he goes, unable to resist. “Do you mean how can I love you in the amount of time we’ve been together? I had over a year to think about you while we were apart. I knew a few weeks after you left that I was in love with you, and letting you go was the worst mistake of my life.” Cullen leans closer. “Or do you mean how can I love someone like you?” Cullen’s mouth is only inches away and Dorian can’t think. “You’re amazing, Dorian. You’re witty, and charming, and so smart it’s scary. But you’re also kind, and you love fiercely. I see it when you talk about Felix, and I knew how Gereon broke your heart. You love with everything you are, and I can only hope that someday you’ll feel that way about me.” Cullen’s lips are so close his breath tickles against his skin. “I don’t care what name you choose. That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” 

Cullen’s lips are firm and soft and Dorian whimpers and presses against him, wraps his arms around his neck and clings to him like he’s his lifeline. The kiss isn’t tongues and groping and uninhibited moans, but it’s the most passionate kiss Dorian has ever experienced. It’s emotional, and meaningful, firm hands, pressed lips and closed eyes. Cullen loves him. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and as the kiss slowly ends, he feels Cullen smile in return. “I can’t believe you just quoted Shakespeare at me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Cullen sounds just as shaky as Dorian feels.

“Yes. In spite of your cornball tactics.” He caresses Cullen’s cheek. “I love you too, you know.” Dorian thinks he’ll be smiling for quite awhile. 

“Thank goodness. It would have been incredibly awkward otherwise.” Cullen grips the back of Dorian’s neck and looks intently into his eyes. “Wherever you go, I’m going with you. No matter what name you pick, I will still love you. We’ll figure it all out, I promise.”

\---

Cullen looks peaceful as he sleeps, and so incredibly sweet, and it takes all of Dorian’s willpower to keep from reaching out, but he doesn’t want to wake him. His own mind is too full of thoughts to turn off just yet. Felix would always somehow know when he was like this, and would call him, even if it was two in the morning. They’d talk through whatever was pinging in his head, sometimes until dawn. _Felix_. The lamp is turned low and he reaches for the journal in the side table and flips to a blank page.

_Felix,_

_I always thought that if this day ever came, you’d be the first person I told. I guess in a way that’s still the case. Cullen loves me. He said it out loud. I still can’t believe it, and I’ve had all day to process it. The only conclusion that can be drawn from this is he’s certifiable._

_He’s seen me at my worst. He’s calmed me after I woke him with nightmares. He knows all my faults, and he still loves me. I can’t believe he’s real. I’m still waiting for him to come to his senses, but Felix, I’m not sure that will happen. I swear to you, he’s a living saint. The only thing I can find wrong with him is his horrible taste in men._

_He says he’ll go with me, wherever I end up. I can’t go back to SF. The Venatori know about that identity. It has to be somewhere they can’t easily reach. Felix, we’re going to Spain! Just like you and I always said we would. Either La Rioja or Navarra. Maybe I can find a job with a vineyard. Imagine me putting my education to work on something I actually love. I can imagine you rolling your eyes and telling me I’ll hate the weather. It won’t be as warm as I’d prefer, but I’ll have Cullen, and lovely local wine to keep me warm._

_I miss you Felix, I think now more than ever. I finally have something wonderful to share with you, and I can’t. But I think about you every day, and I wish so many things were different. But then, would I have Cullen? Am I selfish for even considering that? You’d tell me no._

_I love you and miss you. Always._

Dorian closes the journal and sets it on the bedside table then scooches down under the covers and softly kiss Cullen’s lips. He rolls over and snuggles back against him, shivering slightly as a gentle gust of wind blows through the open window. Cullen wraps his arm around him and pulls him closer, mumbling against the back of his neck. “You okay?” Dorian nods, comforted by Cullen’s voice and his hand placed possessively across his chest. “Need anything?”

“Just you, right here, holding me. That’s all I need.” Dorian puts his hand across Cullen's, and relaxes against him and is asleep in minutes.


	7. I Do Not Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a day early because tomorrow is going to be very busy for me and I didn't want to wait an extra day to finish this up.
> 
> This is the chapter where I attempt angst, or achieve it, depending upon your definition of angst and how easily you cry. I cry at Hallmark commercials, so this was tough to write. But I always write happily ever after so please don't worry. If you'd rather have the story end where it was at Chapter 6, alright. If you'd rather skip the sad part you can begin skipping at the first --- and then start up again at "He nods just as" and you won't have missed too much plot.
> 
> \---  
> Do not stand at my grave and weep  
> Mary Elizabeth Frye
> 
> Do not stand at my grave and weep  
> I am not there. I do not sleep.  
> I am a thousand winds that blow.  
> I am the diamond glints on snow.  
> I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
> I am the gentle autumn rain.  
> When you awaken in the morning's hush  
> I am the swift uplifting rush  
> Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
> I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
> Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
> I am not there. I did not die.

The bed jostles and a gust of cold air hits him. Dorian’s barely alert enough to realize that Cullen’s across the room and talking on the phone. He can see the glow in the dark and pushes himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face, trying to wake his sleep-fogged brain. It’s pitch black outside, and it feels like he hasn’t been asleep long.

“No. I’m glad you called, Carver. I’ll let him know.” Dorian lights the oil lamp and by the set of Cullen’s shoulders, he knows it’s something bad. “Yeah, Spain. Can you do that? Visas and a passport? The works. Make them for a Diodor Pétillant.” Cullen spells it for him. It’s just another small detail he remembers, like raspberry preserves and Darjeeling tea, and Dorian’s heart fills with so much love he thinks it will burst. “Let me know when they’re ready and we’ll come back into town.” There’s another pause and Cullen shakes his head. “No. I’ll tell her when I get back. I should do that in person. Thanks, Carver.”

Cullen hangs up and sags against the dresser. “Cullen?” Dorian’s starting to panic. “What is it, darling?”

Cullen sets the phone on the dresser and turns to face him with a very determined look. The bed dips as he climbs back in. “Dor, I’m sorry. It’s Felix.”

Dorian’s blood runs cold. “What happened?” 

“They’ve moved him home.”

They both know what that means, and Dorian exhales like he’s been punched in the gut. He’s been expecting it, but the news is still surreal. He isn’t ready yet. “When?”

“A few hours ago. Dorian, sweetheart, you can’t go. You know the Venatori will be watching the place. They’d have you in minutes.” 

He nods, emotionally numb. “I know.” Cullen pulls him into his arms and he rests his head against his shoulder. “He’ll be glad to be home.” Dorian wants to cry, but the tears won’t come.

“I’m sure he is. The caregivers will make him as comfortable as possible. He won’t be alone.” Cullen strokes his hair and rocks him gently. “He’d want you to be safe, Dor.” It’s the name that does it. The one word breaks down the tenuous walls holding his emotions in check, and he starts to shake, tears flowing down his cheeks. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s alright. I have you.”

Dorian cries on Cullen’s shoulder, arms crossed against his chest protectively as the pain threatens to consume him. He doesn’t even try to speak and Cullen holds him close and rubs his back. “I love you. And I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

He cries out of sorrow and frustration, until he has no more tears, and the only feeling left is bone weariness. He leans heavily against Cullen, staring at nothing, and doesn’t protest when he gently lays him back on the pillows and curls around him. “I have you. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

Dorian takes a deep breath and settles back against him, but doesn’t close his eyes. He stares off at a point hundreds of miles away, in a mansion in Seattle, where Felix lies dying. Alone. Without anyone who loves him. 

He lays there quietly, soaking up all of the love and comfort he can, and when he feels Cullen’s warm breath steady against the back of his neck, and his arms loosen just slightly, Dorian closes his eyes. _I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me_.

He gently slides out of bed and dresses quietly, taking nothing with him. He makes his way downstairs in the dark, and grabs the car keys from the hook in the kitchen before slipping out the front door. It closes soundlessly behind him and he sends silent thanks to Mr. Rutherford for his precise craftsmanship. The Rover’s engine turns over, and Dorian is sure the sound has woken Cullen, but he doesn’t let it stop him. He coasts down the drive, only pressing the gas once he gets out into the forest, and heads for civilization.

\---

It takes three and a half hours to get to Seattle, and another twenty minutes to Felix’s. He does a drive-by and scopes the surroundings, but doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He’s not foolish enough to assume he’d notice if anything was, so he drives around the block one more time and pulls up to the gate, praying the code hasn’t been changed. He sighs with relief when the gates swing wide enough to fit the Rover through. He guns the engine and shoots down the driveway. 

It’s almost four in the morning and there aren’t any lights on in the house, but he doesn’t need them. He could maneuver through blindfolded if necessary. He gets out of the vehicle and walks around the house to the kitchen, letting himself in with the spare key hidden in the downspout. He closes the door quietly and tiptoes across the tile floor, breathing easier only when he gets to the dining room and the wall to wall carpeting. He’s forgotten how difficult it is to be stealthy in boots. The main hall is parquet and requires another feat of silent maneuvering before he reaches the steps and the quietness of the oriental runner. 

He fights the urge to take the stairs two at a time. Better to be quiet and in control of his breathing. Felix’s room is first on the right, just at the top of the stairs, and he quietly turns the knob and steps into the room. And freezes.

“You must be Dorian.” 

He isn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be here, although in hindsight it was a stupid assumption. In the time it takes him to think that, the woman stands and turns towards him. 

She holds out her hand and Dorian stares at it, unsure what to make of the situation. He’s never known a Venatori assassin to shake a target’s hand before killing them, but that means nothing. She smiles, hand still extended. “I’m Christabella, but everyone calls me Chris. I’m a hospice volunteer.” 

Dorian finally relaxes and shakes her hand, managing a polite greeting by rote, keeping his voice low as she had. “He’s sleeping right now, but he should wake up soon. He never sleeps for very long. Takes little naps. He won’t let us give him any strong pain relief.” She looks over at Felix. “He’s been waiting for you. That’s how I knew your name. He said you’d probably come during the night shift.”

If Felix knew, then the Venatori have figured it out too. He has very little time. “Dor?” 

Dorian is next to Felix in a heartbeat. He pulls Chris’s chair closer to the bed and takes Felix’s frail, cold hand between his own. “Yes. It’s me. Felix I’m here.” Felix is unrecognizable. Too thin, sores everywhere, breath rattling in his lungs.

“You’re a fool for coming.” The words are barely above a whisper, but without all of the noise from the hospital machinery to drown him out, Dorian has no problem hearing him. “I’m glad you’re here.” His smile is feeble and it’s all Dorian can do not to burst into tears. 

He takes a deep breath and smiles for him. “Well, you know me. I always enjoy causing a ruckus.” 

Felix manages a soft snort of agreement. “You look well.” 

Dorian nods and leans closer. “I always do.” 

“True.” Felix squeezes his hand gently and takes a breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Dorian shakes his head. “Save your strength.”

His laugh is thin and flat. “For what? I’m not going to get better, Dor.” His breathing is labored and Dorian doesn’t want to agitate him so he nods and stays silent. “Chris?” 

Dorian looks to Chris who appears to have been waiting for this signal from Felix. She digs into her pocket and pulls out a small laminated card and hands it to him. “I’ll just wait outside the door and give you two a moment. Come get me if you need something.” She smiles at them both and excuses herself.

The card has a string of numbers on one side and a phone number on the other. “You’ll need money. It’s in the Caymans. Offshore.” There’s silence and Dorian looks up from the card, instantly worried. But Felix seems to be waiting for his attention, nothing more. “Wherever you go, open a bank account in your new name. Transfer the funds. It’s all arranged.”

Dorian shakes his head. It isn’t his money. It’s Felix’s. “Felix, I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m not going to use it. Father isn’t.” The rattle in his breathing is getting louder and it worries Dorian. “It will go to the government. None of us wants that.” Felix smiles again. “Start a new life. Find someone.” Dorian blushes and even though Felix probably can’t see it in the dim light, he somehow knows and squeezes his hand. “You have.”

Dorian nods. “Yes.” He looks deeply into Felix’s eyes, wanting him to hear every word. “I have. And I love him, Felix. And in some strange twist of fate, he loves me back. He’s a good man. The sort you’ve always wanted me to find. Kind, incredibly thoughtful and generous.” 

“And gorgeous?”

“So gorgeous. He’s - “

“Shhh. I don’t need to know any more.” Felix’s eyes dart around the room as if the walls have ears, which is probably what he’s trying to indicate. Saying anything more might identify Cullen, and that’s the last thing Dorian wants to do. “If he’s good to you and makes you happy then I approve.” 

Felix looks relieved, like a burden has been lifted, and Dorian doesn’t have the heart to tell him that coming here probably destroyed anything he had with Cullen. “He’s good to me. He’s good _for_ me, and everything I never thought I’d have.”

“Good.” Felix looks exhausted, although the pressure from his hand hasn’t wavered. 

Dorian wants to do something, but doesn’t know what could possibly help. “Can I get you anything?”

“No. Thanks.” Felix closes his eyes and sighs. “I love you Dor. I’m glad you came.”

“I love you too, Felix. I’m glad I did too.” 

“Stay for a bit?” Felix’s breathing evens out and he squeezes Dorian’s hand harder than before.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Venatori be damned, he’s staying right here. Nothing could make him leave now. Dorian bites his lip hard hoping the pain will distract him from crying. He caresses Felix’s hair, now thin where it used to be thick and wavy. “I’m right here, Felix.” 

Felix smiles and takes a deep breath then lets it all out. Dorian watches quietly for a few minutes until Felix’s grip slackens. The room is completely silent, and Dorian holds his breath until his lungs start to burn, straining to hear any sound. The room is eerily still.

Dorian ignores the prickling behind his eyes and slides his hand from Felix’s forehead to the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse, but there is none. There’s a lump forming in his throat, and he shakes as he places a cupped hand near Felix’s mouth and nose, but there is no puff of air. 

He fights back a sob but lets the tears fall as he kisses the back of Felix’s hand and places it against his lips. “It’s alright, darling. Rest now.” This is the last time he’ll have to say goodbye to him. “I’m sure Livia’s waiting for you with open arms.” He stands and places Felix’s hand gently beside him on the bed and caresses his cheek one more time before he heads for the door.

When Chris sees his face, hers falls as well. She nods and moves past him into the room, verifying what they both know. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Dorian.”

He nods just as a loud splintering of wood echoes through the downstairs. “Chris, I’m so sorry. Stay here and hopefully you’ll be safe.” She looks terrified but there’s nothing he can do for her. Staying with her might possibly be more dangerous than leaving her alone. He slams the door behind him and heads for the steps as loud popping noises come from outside. He slows and glances towards the kitchen just as someone dressed in black steps into the foyer and aims a gun at him. He knows with the certainty of an odds-maker that he isn’t going to be lucky enough to walk away twice from a loaded gun pointed at him. 

He hears the gunfire and is stunned when he doesn’t feel any pain, and the person in black crumples to the floor. He freezes in place, unsure if it’s better to go back upstairs or continue out the front door, and is still standing in the middle of the stairs when a familiar figure steps over the body and looks up at him. Dorian can’t immediately place the face. “Dorian, come on. We need to get you out of here.”

The voice does it. “Agent Hawke.” _Carver_. His guts twist as he thinks about Cullen, and what he’s given up to be with Felix in his final moments. “I’m very glad to see you, but how is it that you’re here so fortuitously?” Dorian starts down the stairs.

“Once Felix came back home, our boss assumed that the Venatori would be watching the house, waiting to see if you’d show up. She put two agents on surveillance in case something went down. Which it did.”

“How depressing, to be so predictable.” Dorian is stressed and self-deprecating humor is safer than lashing out with snark. 

“Well, good thing you are, or they wouldn’t have been here in time.” Dorian hits the last step and Carver motions for him to follow. 

“Them? You weren’t here?” He trusts Carver because of their history, and because Cullen trusts Carver, so he follows. But that doesn’t mean he’s not curious.

“Cullen called me after you took off. Asked me to make sure you were safe.” Dorian stumbles to a stop as Carver keeps walking towards the Land Rover. He opens the passenger side door and waves Dorian in. “Come on. Get in. I’m assuming you have the keys.”

Dorian lurches forward and manages to climb into the passenger seat, still half dazed. He digs the keys out of his pocket and hands them to Carver. “Where are we going?”

“Cullen’s.” Carver jogs around to the driver’s side, gets in and starts the vehicle. They pull down the driveway and through the now open gate, heading away from the Alexius estate. They pass several police cars going in the opposite direction and Dorian is glad that he doesn’t have to deal with them. But he does have to deal with Cullen. And he’s terrified. Neither of them say much on the thirty minute drive, but Dorian is having a number of conversations in his head, all of which revolve around Cullen’s possible reactions and what his response should be to each.

By the time they pull up in front of a nondescript single story house, the sky is just beginning to lighten and Dorian can barely keep his eyes open. Carver pulls down one of the driveways and parks behind Dorian’s car. Carver gives him a nudge. “C’mon. We’re here.” Dorian gets out slowly, dread growing with each step. They walk down a small garden path and Carver knocks briefly on the front door then goes in. Dorian takes a deep breath and follows. 

The door is barely shut before Dorian is crushed against Cullen’s chest. His embrace is so tight that Dorian can barely breathe, but he doesn’t mind. “I’m gonna yell at you later, a lot. But right now I’m just so glad you’re alright.”

He tucks his face against Cullen’s neck and let’s the tension melt away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, we’re going to have to work on your planning and communication skills, because they suck. And I’m pissed off.” Cullen kisses the side of his head. “Really pissed off. But I love you.”

Dorian is too stunned to say much. This was not the reaction he was expecting at all. “I love you too.”

“Did you get to see him?” Cullen loosens his grip and rubs Dorian’s back.

“Yes. And we spoke for a bit. I was there when he passed.” He sighs, too tired for any more tears.

“I’m glad.” Cullen hugs him again. “At least if you were going to risk yourself, you accomplished what you intended.”

Dorian pushes back to look in eyes. “Cullen, you can yell at me all you want, because I know I deserve it, but I had to try.” He steps away but gets dizzy and reaches out to steady himself. Cullen’s arms are around him instantly. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.”

“You need to sleep. We both do.”

“That’s my cue to leave.” They both look over, having forgotten that Carver is there.

Cullen extends his hand and Carver shakes it. “Thanks, Carv. I owe you.”

“Yeah, ya do.” Carver smirks and nods to Dorian then looks back at Cullen. “I’ll bring the Rover back later, after _I_ get some sleep. I left my car a few blocks from the scene. Varric’s going to go get it and he’ll follow me back here later with the papers.”

“Thanks, Carv.”

“Yeah, I know. You owe me.” Carver grins and is out the door in a heartbeat, leaving them alone.

As tired as he is, Dorian braces himself for Cullen’s anger, and so is utterly unprepared when it doesn’t come. “You’re going to be a handful. I can see that now.”

Going to be. As in future tense. As in, Cullen is planning to be around. If he had the energy, Dorian might laugh, or cry or shake with relief. As it is he can barely keep his feet under him. Cullen stifles a yawn and nods to the bed. “Shoes off, eyes closed, hands to yourself until we’ve slept and I’ve yelled at you.” _Oh. So it’s still to come_. Cullen helps him sit on the edge of the bed and then leans down to unlace his own boots. 

Dorian struggles through getting his own boots off, and barely manages it before he falls backwards onto the bed with a half groan half yawn. Cullen pushes him gently up the mattress so his head is on the pillow, and Dorian rolls onto his side, curled into himself. He feels Cullen’s arm slip around him, pulling him backward against his chest. He looks over his shoulder. “I thought it was hands to myself.”

Cullen tucks his leg between Dorian’s and nuzzled into the back of his neck. “I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m not able to resist you.” Dorian feels the soft brushing of lips against his skin and smiles. “It probably also means that I’m never going to win an argument with you either.”

“I don’t know. I might let you win now and then.” He laughs at the gentle head butt.

“Go to sleep.” 

Dorian doesn’t need to be told twice.

\---

They wake in late afternoon to the phone ringing. Dorian feels Cullen reach behind them and then curl back around him. “Hello?” Cullen’s breath tickles the back of his neck and he presses against him, still not quite believing that things are alright. “Funny Varric. Do I sound like we were in the middle of anything but sleeping?” Dorian manages a small wiggle against Cullen and gets a gentle pinch for it. “Alright, that sounds good. Thin crust. Pepperoni and sausage. Mushrooms on half.” Dorian’s stomach growls at the mention of food. “See you in a bit.” Cullen hangs up and wraps around him. “Pizza with a side of Carver and Varric will be here in about forty minutes.”

Dorian chuckles and stretches. “Is there time for a shower?”

Cullen gently squeezes him. “A solo shower. No monkey business. I want to talk first. Alright?”

He rolls over so he’s facing Cullen. “Alright. Do you want to talk now? I can always shower later.”

“No. Go ahead. You’ll feel better, and I’m not completely sure what our timeline is. We’ll know more once we talk to Varric.”

“I’m going to have to borrow some clothes. I left everything at the cabin.”

Cullen kisses his forehead. “Your stuff is in the laundry room. I brought it back with me. I’ll get your clean clothes and bring them in for you. If we have time, we’ll do a few loads of laundry so all of our things are clean, and ready to repack.”

“You still want to come with me?” Even after the things he’d said before they’d slept, Dorian can’t quite believe Cullen has forgiven him.

“I love you, Dorian. Of course I still want to come with you.” Cullen rubs his thumb against Dorian’s cheek. “Just because we disagree, or have a fight doesn’t mean I’m going to leave, or I don’t love you anymore.” Cullen adjusts his position so they can see each other’s faces clearly. “Dor, we’re not always going to agree. But I would like to always talk about it, whatever _it_ might be, and try to come to an understanding. Alright? No more going off half-cocked and putting yourself in danger.” Cullen frowns and cups his face. “Look, there was no possibility of me liking your idea. So I won’t tell you that I would have approved. But I would have understood, and I would have gone with you. I’m pretty good at protecting people, or so I’m told.”

Dorian blinks as he processes that. Then he feels like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”

“Yes, you should have.” Cullen’s features soften and a hint of a smile pulls at his lip. “I guess I should be pleased. If I ever get into trouble I know you’ll be there in an instant. Most likely recklessly, and with an ill conceived plan, but you’ll be there.”

Dorian smiles brilliantly and shifts closer. “I’ll move heaven and earth.” Cullen rolls his eyes but leans in. The kiss is soft and sweet and Dorian feels so much love in that one small gesture. He rests his forehead against Cullens and looks up at him through his lashes. “I thought you’d hate me for leaving like that.”

“Well, I’ll admit I was pretty pissed off when I heard the Rover’s engine. And I seriously thought about leaving you to your own devices.” Dorian is about to protest but Cullen cuts him off. “For about five minutes. I stomped around the bedroom ranting into the air. I even pretended that I was going to go back to sleep, but I flung the comforter back and knocked your journal on the floor.” He blushes and looks a bit guilty. “I didn’t know it was your journal at the time. I picked it up and got curious.” 

Dorian feels a little twinge of embarrassment, trying to recall exactly what he wrote to Felix in his entries. “I could tell how much pain you were in. I knew already, but to read the words and feel the love you have for Felix-” Cullen brushes the back of his hand along Dorian’s cheek. “- how much love you have for me, I had to make sure I got you back in one piece. So I called Carver. He told me he’d take care of you and bring you here.”

He takes Cullen’s hand and kissed his palm. “And you walked all the way to my car?” 

“Branson came and got me. I told him we had a fight. Well, I had to tell him about you first, and _then_ I told him we had a fight. He saw how upset I was so he didn’t ask too many questions. He dropped me at your car and I asked him to go back to the cabin and clean up for us. I did the best I could in the time it took him to get out there, but I left the food and the linens. If I missed anything in my hasty packing he’ll send it to Carver to send to us.” 

Dorian grins and rubs his palm against Cullen’s beard. “You told your brother about me.” 

Cullen slides backwards off the bed and stands, pulling Dorian after him. “Yes. And by now the whole family knows. They’ve probably had a group chat about us as well.” He turns Dorian around and points him at the hallway just past the kitchen. 

It’s the first time he gets a good look at Cullen’s apartment. It’s an efficiency, but very charming, with lots of windows and a little sitting area with a fireplace. The kitchen is small but cute and appears to be well stocked. Dorian isn’t surprised. “Bathroom is first door on the right. Extra towels are on the shelf with your travel kit.” Cullen gives him a little push. “Go shower.”

“Bossy.” Dorian is actually in favor of a very hot shower. He’s feeling odd, like he’s out of phase. Too much emotional upheaval and not enough sleep has him a bit off kilter. He hopes a good scrub and a change of clothes will help him feel more like himself. He kisses Cullen and heads in the direction indicated.

The bathroom is small but immaculate, efficiently laid out with a long walk-in shower on the right, and the toilet at the far end, with a vanity-sink combination directly opposite. There’s a shelving unit in the corner loaded with towels and washcloths. Dorian shuts the door and turns on the shower, then slowly gets undressed, tired and sore from being tense for so many hours. 

He steps under the hot spray and groans with pleasure. He’d been half afraid that Cullen owned one of those environmentally friendly water heaters that only made the water mildly warm. He drops his head forward and lets the water pound against his back, releasing some of the tension. There’s a quick knock, and Dorian looks up. Cullen pokes his head in the bathroom and is about to say something, but stops as his eyes slowly take in all of Dorian’s naked, wet body. He stands up straight and smirks, doing nothing to cover himself or end the review. Cullen’s gaze finally makes it to his face, and he’s blushing, but grinning. “I brought your clothes. Varric and Carver just pulled up.”

“Alright, I’ll be out in a sec.” Dorian chuckles as Cullen takes another long look before he shuts the door. “Just hold that thought, Special Agent Rutherford.” He showers, no longer dawdling, but he can’t manage to rush either. He finally steps out of the shower, towels off, and grabs his travel kit from the shelf next to the washcloths. He brushes his teeth and braids his hair before pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a black long sleeved tee. He scrutinizes his appearance, and debates calling things finished, but he’s never met Varric, and he’s vain enough to admit he wants to impress Cullen’s coworker. He lines his eyes and decides it’s good enough, and exits the bathroom. Cullen, Carver and a third man that Dorian assumes must be Varric, are seated in the living room area. There are several pizza boxes open on the coffee table and Carver is telling them about this morning’s events. 

Dorian steps up behind Cullen, who takes his hand and gestures to the new person. “Dorian, this is Varric Tethras. He’s the Bureau's information wizard.” 

Dorian steps around Cullen and extends his hand. “Very nice to met you, Varric.”

“Likewise, Diodore.” He shakes Dorian’s hand and winks. Then he looks at Cullen. “Everyone ought to get used to calling him by his new name. Right?” He looks back at Dorian. “Interesting choice of last name though. Pétillant. French for sparkling. As in, personality?”

Dorian laughs. “Of course! But also as in wine.”

“Dorian is an Oenologist.” Cullen sounds proud and Dorian feels a bit surprised, but very pleased.

Carver snorts. “Sounds like a member of a religious group.” 

Dorian laughs and nods in agreement. “There are some for whom Oenology is a religion.”

Varric grins at Carver and supplies the needed information. “It means he has a fancy degree in winemaking, Junior.” Dorian decides it’s best not to mention his knowledge of viticulture. He doesn’t want to sound like a snob. “So is that what you’re planning to do in Spain?”

“Yes, I plan on buying a vineyard or winery, hopefully both, and making a go of it.”

“That’ll be expensive, Sparkler.”

Dorian snorts at the nickname. “Yes. That’s no longer an issue.” He isn’t sure how much Felix has left him, but he’s certain it’s more than enough to buy property and get even the most neglected vineyard and winery up and running. Carver and Cullen both look surprised. “Felix took care of me.” 

Cullen looks like he’s going to ask and Varric holds up his hand. “Junior and I don’t need to know. If you want to tell Curly later, be my guest.”

“Curly?” Dorian cocks an eyebrow and looks over at Cullen. 

“Don’t even think about calling me that. Varric is the only one who gets away with it because he gives everyone a nickname, and no one seems to know how to stop him.” Cullen’s look says he means it, but Dorian files it away for future consideration.

“Alright.” Varric pulls a laptop out of his bag and boots it up. Dorian sits on the sofa next to Cullen and eats a slice of the mushroom pizza while they all watch whatever Varric is doing. His fingers fly over the keys for long enough that Dorian is halfway through his second slice when Varric grins and sits back, smiling. “Your University transcripts now include an undergraduate double major in Biochemistry and Viticulture and Enology, and I’ve added enough additional classes during the years you were earning your master's and doctorate to give you credibility in the industry.” Varric winked at him. “I’m guessing you can charm your way through any other hurdles.”

Varric shuts down the laptop and stuffs it back into his bag. “Background story: Diodore Felix Pétillant, born in Seattle, Washington thirty years ago. I’ve used your same birth date for ease of remembering.” Dorian is both surprised and pleased at the addition of Felix as his middle name. It’s a very personal way to remember him and he’s grateful.

“You are the only child of Huard and Alyssandra Pétillant who came from France thirty five years ago, and became US naturalized citizens. They died five years ago in a terrible car crash during a weekend ski trip to Colorado. Icy roads after dark. Died on impact. You can make up the rest of the details.” 

Varric pulls a large envelope out of his bag and hands it to Cullen. “Combined residence and work visas for both of you, and a new passport and driver's license for Diodore. Plane tickets. Nonstop to JFK with your first connection to Madrid and your second to Logroño. Flight leaves tomorrow morning. You’re already checked in. There’s a car rental in your names and long term hotel reservations in Aldeanueva de Ebro. It should give you enough time to find an apartment or a house to rent while you look for your winery.”

Cullen takes the packet and everyone stands. Carver holds out his hand and Cullen shakes it and pulls him into a hug. “Aveline wants to speak with you so you probably want to call her after we leave. I’ll see you when you get back. Call me if you need help.” Carver holds his hand out to Dorian and they shake. “Take care of him or his mother will kill you.” Carver nods once, and heads for the door. 

Varric shoulders his bag and shakes hands with Cullen. “Curly, pleasure working with you. I get to Spain now and then so maybe I’ll drop by and have a glass of wine.”

“Yes, please.” Cullen turns to call to Carver. “You too. Both of you, please come visit.” 

Carver nods again and opens the front door. “I’ll be in the car.”

Dorian holds out his hand and shakes Varric’s. “Thank you so much for your assistance. I appreciate that you didn’t have to do this, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“No problem, Sparkler. Enjoy your new life.” Varric grins and looks between Cullen and Dorian. “Somehow I think you both will.” He adjusts the strap on his bag and sighs. “Guess I better go make sure Junior’s okay. He’s gonna miss you, Curly. Take care. Keep in touch.” Varric walks out, closing the door behind him, and it’s suddenly very quiet in the room.

Cullen pulls his fingers through his hair and sighs, plopping down on the sofa. Dorian settles next to him and places a hand on his thigh. “It’s all a bit overwhelming isn’t it?” 

Cullen nods. “Yeah. Guess I have a few phone calls to make. Namely my mother and my boss. I’m not sure which one to make first.”

“Mother. Definitely.” 

Cullen nods. “Yes, you’re right. Especially after last night.” He scrubs his face and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Here goes.” Dorian kisses his cheek as he dials. “Hey mama.” There’s a bit of a pause and Cullen stands and starts walking through the apartment. “I’m fine.” Dorian doesn’t envy him this conversation, but he’s also slightly embarrassed for himself, and concerned what Cullen will tell her. Having never met his family, he doesn’t want to make a bad impression before he gets the chance to do it in person. “It was a misunderstanding, not a fight. No it’s not the same thing. There were no angry words -” 

Cullen is walking in an ever tightening circle and Dorian knows this is it. This is the point where she’ll learn it was all Dorian’s fault. “It was my fault, mama. He tried to tell me how important something was, and I didn’t get it.” Cullen looks over at him and the intense love in his eyes takes Dorian’s breath away. “I get it now though. And we’ve talked. Everything is fine. Better than fine.” Dorian fidgets as Cullen crosses the room and sits on the back of the sofa, reaching out to gently glide his fingertips along Dorian’s jaw. “Yes ma’am. I apologized.” 

Dorian leans his head against Cullen’s thigh and shakes his head, grateful but not understanding why he would take the blame. “Yes. But, mama? Listen for a sec, okay? I need to tell you something important.” Dorian sits up and Cullen smiles down at him and strokes his cheek with the back of his hand. “‘I’m in love with him mama, and my life would be empty without him. So I’m moving to Spain to be with him.”

Dorian presses Cullen’s hand to his cheek and turns to kiss his fingers. “We leave tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back in a few weeks to pack my stuff and visit with everyone. Then there will probably need to be a few trips back and forth for awhile to tie up loose ends.” There’s a lot of chatter on the other end of the phone and Dorian thinks he hears several voices. “Yes, sir. It’s that serious. And I’m sorry it’s so last minute, but he’s leaving tomorrow, and I want to go with him. It’s something I have to do.” Cullen visibly relaxes and grins, nodding into the phone. Thanks, dad. I love you too. Give mama my love and tell her I’ll call when we get to Spain to let you know we arrived safely.” There’s more chatter from multiple voices and Cullen nods. “Alright, we will. Love you both. Bye.”

Cullen hangs up and Dorian smiles tentatively at him. “That didn’t seem like it went too poorly, given the surprising news.”

Cullen leans down and kisses him. “All in all it went rather well. My mother is in a bit of shock, but by the time I call her from Spain she’ll have a list of questions a mile long. Expect to have to speak with her because she’s going to insist.”

He nods. “Fair, I guess. I’m permanently whisking her son away to a foreign country. It’s the least I can do.” He rubs Cullen’s thigh absently. “So you’re coming back in two weeks?” The thought of being left alone in Spain is a bit daunting.

“Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you about it first.” He swings his legs over the back of the couch and slides down to sit next to him. “I was thinking that we’d get situated in the hotel, we’ll start looking for someplace to rent until we find a real place of our own, get familiar with the town, and how things work. Then I’ll fly back, pack up my stuff here, visit with the family for a bit. I’ll make sure all of our stuff gets sent along, and fly home to you.” 

_Home to you_ sounds very nice and Dorian can’t help but grin. “Alright. But won’t I be taking all my stuff with me?”

“I mean your stuff from San Francisco. Carver got in touch with Cole, and your things from your apartment have been packed up and sent to an FBI storage unit here in Seattle. Carver is going to have it combined with my stuff and send it all to Spain once we finally have an address for him.” Cullen puts his arm around Dorian and pulls him close. “So you’ll have your things. That should help with the transition.”

Dorian leans against Cullen and kisses his cheek. “You really did think of everything. Thank you.” He holds Cullen’s gaze. “Mostly, thank you for loving me.”

“Dor, you’re so easy to love.” Cullen tilts his head and leans in, kissing him sweetly. “Okay, I’m going to go take a shower, and then call Aveline and resign. Guess I’ll have to look for a job once I get to wherever we’re going.”

“Only if you want to.” Dorian turns to face him. “If you could do anything, if money was no object, what would you do?”

“As a job?” Dorian nods and Cullen shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I always assumed I’d go back to the farm. It’s peaceful there, slower paced. It’s tough work, but rewarding. So I guess I’d be a farmer.”

Dorian grins. “Then be a vintner. Help me with the grapes. We’ll find a vineyard, we’ll maybe get a few goats, you could run the growing end of things and I would be responsible for the winemaking. What do you think?”

Cullen considers it. “I don’t know much specifically about grapes, but I do know growing. I’m sure with a little help I can get the hang of it. But I’m not sure how I feel about not paying my own share of things.” 

Dorian knows what he’s saying and can understand his reluctance. “Okay, hear me out.” He waits for Cullen to nod. “Felix left me a stupid amount of money. Even after we buy property, neither of us has to work another day if we don’t want to.” Dorian holds up his hand when Cullen looks like he’s going to say something. “But I would completely understand if you want to do something other than winemaking and grape growing. The region we’re going to is also known for other agricultural endeavors. Cauliflower, mushrooms, peppers, even pears. We can buy some land and you can farm to your hearts content. Whatever you want to do. Whatever makes you happy.” Dorian practically crawls into Cullen’s lap. “I want this to work, Cullen. I want _us_ to work. I don’t want you to end up hating me once we’re there.”

Cullen laughs and hauls him the rest of the way into his lap, settling his arms around his waist. “I could never hate you, sweetheart.” His lips are gentle and Dorian smiles into the kiss. “You really have thought about this move.”

“Felix and I were going to run away from our teenage troubles and live in Spain. As we got older we started to get specific. Where would we settle. What we would do to support ourselves.” He caressed Cullen’s face. “He’d be glad we were going, living out the dream.” 

Cullen hugged him. “You gonna be okay?”

Dorian nods. “Yeah, I can’t say I won’t be sad when I think about him, but he’s not suffering anymore. I can focus on that.”

“Alright. Well, I’m going to go take the shower I’ve been threatening to take for the last two hours.” He grins and slides out from under Dorian. “Why don’t you make us some tea and we’ll sit on the patio and enjoy the sunset.”

Cullen kisses him quickly and heads off to the bathroom. Dorian hears the shower start and unfolds himself from the couch and goes to the kitchen. He fills the electric kettle and turns it on then pokes through the cupboards looking for mugs and tea. He finds Darjeeling, and it makes him smile. While he waits for the water to boil he collects the pizza boxes and puts the leftovers in the fridge. 

The kettle shuts off and he pours the hot water into each of the mugs, watching the liquid darken as the tea brews. The shower shut off just as he tosses the teabags in the trash and adds a splash of milk to each mug. When a freshly washed Cullen emerges, Dorian hands him his tea and slides his fingers through the slightly damp curls at the base of his neck. “I see where Varric came up with the nickname. I knew your hair was wavy, but I had no idea you had actual curls. I love them.”

“My boyfriend is into beards and curly hair. Got it.” Cullen smiles and takes his hand, leading him across the room and out through the sliding glass doors onto the patio. 

Cullen slips his arm around his waist and Dorian leans into him. He’s not sure how things managed to turn out so well when they could have gone so horribly wrong so many times, but he’s not going to question it. 

The sunset is spectacular. The sky is painted with shades of purple and orange, and it’s breathtakingly beautiful. They have lots of hard work in front of them, and things won’t always go smoothly. There will be hiccups and heartache and disagreements, but there will be an amazing amount of laughter and love, and he knows It'll all be worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Save Me  
> Peter Cetera
> 
> Man all alone, caught in raging water  
> Man overboard, caught in a terrible storm  
> Throw me the rope, pull me out of trouble  
> I need someone, someone to keep me warm  
> Why don't you save me  
> I'm burning with desire  
> Why won't you save me  
> Don't leave me all alone  
> And it's all right  
> Wrap me up, baby won't you take me home
> 
> Forty below, high up a lonely mountain  
> Slipping down, baby I'm sinking fast  
> Throw me the rope, pull me out of this trouble  
> S.O.S. don't think I'm gonna last
> 
> Why don't you save me  
> I'm burning with desire  
> Why won't you save me  
> Come on hold me tight  
> And it's all right  
> Don't you know we're gonna have fun tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give huge thank yous and hugs to my fellow sprinters, The Keystrokes, who cheered me on and helped me brainstorm, and work through tricky timing issues. A special thank you to my three Betas for this: Ponticle, Aurlana, and Dragonflies_and_Katydids. Any mistakes you find are mine, because I tweaked stuff after they did their thing. 
> 
> I have an epilogue of sorts in my head, so if this is a story you like and are interested in more, or if you enjoyed reading what I have here, I'd love to hear from you in the comments, or over on tumblr where I'm earlgreyer1.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Save Me Epilogue - Spain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320723) by [D_elfie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_elfie/pseuds/D_elfie)




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